


Undisclosed Desires

by Ischa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:32:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's very canon based and focuses on the development of their relationship while they're fighting the apocalypse.<br/><i>“It's true, isn't it?” he asks Cas.<br/>“That angels are watching over you?”<br/>“Yes.”<br/>“No, they are not. No one can find you,” Castiel answers.<br/>“You can,” he says.<br/>“Because you let me know where you are,” Castiel looks out of the window again. It's dark outside already.<br/>“Are you still watching me sleep?” Dean asks, looking at Cas' profile. Cas turns to face him again.<br/>“Yes,” he answers.<br/>“So, angels are watching over me...”<br/>“No,” Castiel answers.<br/>“You just said you watch me sleep sometimes,” he protests.<br/>“Yes. I. Singular. It's just me, Dean,” Castiel answers and Dean nods, because he can't argue with that.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Undisclosed Desires

**Title:** Undisclosed Desires  
 **Pairing:** Dean/Castiel  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Summary:** Over the course of seasons 4 and 5, Dean and Castiel gradually realize that their feelings toward each other have evolved. This story is about how they become first friends and then something more. It's very canon based and focuses on the development of their relationship while they're fighting the apocalypse.  
 **Warning(s):** sex, violence, spoilers up to season five  
 **Author’s Notes:** Title by Muse. Huge thanks to all my betas. This is kind of for nilyveth. [Awesome ART](http://cybel.livejournal.com/64225.html)  by cybel.  
 **Word Count:** 22.833  
 **Beta:** asm_z, tygermine, melanth0  
 **Disclaimer:** Don’t know, don’t own, not real

\--+-- _  
I. Dean_

~1~   
Castiel does what he is told.

He doesn't know who his superiors are, exactly, but in the long run, it doesn't matter. Castiel does what he is told. So when they tell him to go to Hell and find Dean Winchester, he does.    
Hell was exactly that: Hell. From the moment he created it, it was a twisted, perverted image of what God created. Of heaven.  
He's seen Hell before, briefly, as Michael defeated Lucifer. Castiel was just a soldier then, as he is just a soldier now. He has never had nightmares. Angels don't dream, because they don't sleep. But if he could dream, Hell, that brief glimpse of Hell (darkness, blood, pain), would be his nightmare.    
He wasn't alone. No angel could do this alone. But he was the first, and still too late. They lost the first seal, he lost brothers. They lost.   
Battling, fighting, killing his way down, down, down.    
And still too late.    
The first contact of light on skin. He didn't know. Maybe he did, he just didn't think about it much at the moment. Maybe he wanted Dean to know, to forever remember that it was him who pulled him out. That it was Castiel's hand on his skin. A mark, a brand. A responsibility. His responsibility, he knew even then.  
   
He didn't know how this broken beyond repair soul could save anyone. Not to mention the world. But it was not his place to ask these questions.  

~2~  
Castiel wouldn't say that Dean was a disappointment. In some fashion all humans are. That was the reason for the war. Human imperfection and love, perhaps. Castiel tries not to dwell on it. It was so long ago and Lucifer's reasons were always just that: Lucifer's reasons. Castiel didn't believe him then and he does not believe him now. Killing millions of people is not the answer. It could never be. Not in the world Castiel lives in. Not in a world where God is still good. Still merciful.  

~+~  
Those first encounters weren't very encouraging.     
Castiel's voice made Dean bleed. Made him scream and Castiel didn't know why at first. Wasn't Dean chosen? Shouldn't he be able to hear, to listen, to understand? Apparently not. Just another obstacle for Castiel. Nothing he could not handle.    
He needed time, needed time to find a vessel, needed time to think - time he did not have. The world was on the brink of war, again.    
Jimmy understood. Jimmy knew, or maybe he just thought he knew. Castiel didn't know, nor did he care much. Jimmy was his vessel. Jimmy, like others, was chosen. He would fight, he would bleed, he would die if that was God's will. And Jimmy didn't question God's will like Castiel. He was faithful. 

~3~  
Castiel can't say he was not surprised, because he was. He appeared in front of a few people over thousands of years, but none of them were like Dean.  
Dean didn't believe him.  
     
“Who are you?” He looked like he was going to slit Castiel's throat, if Castiel would just give him the slightest chance. Dean was full of anger and hate and pain, but no fear. No fear whatsoever.  

“Castiel.” It was his name. It was the only explanation needed.  

“Yeah, I figured that much. I mean what are you?”  

“I'm an Angel of the Lord.” He thought it should be clear. Who else, what else, could bring someone back from the pit of hell? Nothing. No one. Only an angel; just _him_.  

“Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing.” Disrespect, disbelief, in every word. And anger. So much anger. Castiel didn't know why.  

“This is your problem, Dean, you have no faith,” he had answered, because it was the truth. He could see it in Dean; like he could see in so many other human beings. 

“Look, pal, I'm not buying what you're selling. So, who are you really?” Denial. Well, Castiel could deal with that. It was not the first time, after all.  

“I told you.” What else was there to say?  

“Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?”  

“Good things do happen, Dean.” That was not exactly a lie, but he still lied to Dean for the first time in this moment.

“Not in my experience.” It sounded like the absolute truth, delivered in the simplest of words.  

“What's the matter?” he asked. He looked at Dean, tried to see beyond all that anger and mistrust. Just to see who he was talking to and then it hit him. “You don't think you deserve to be saved.” Not a question, because he knew.

“Why'd you do it?” It's not like he had expected an answer.  

“Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you.” Of that he was sure. Maybe that was the only thing he was sure of, that and God's mercy. 

   
~4~  
The Rise of the Witnesses is something they didn't think about until it was too late. He couldn't be there to help anyway. He was somewhere else, fighting, losing. It seems like they are always losing the battles, like there is no way to win. He doesn't think about it too often; he doesn't have time to think about it. It's hard to keep track of all the seals Lilith might break. It's their fault, of course. It doesn't make things easier on him. And then there is Dean. That human, that fragile human being, that refuses to give up, that refuses to die, that refuses God and Castiel. He refuses everything.    
Castiel isn't sure Dean knows that this is a dream. He suspects Dean doesn't know. It doesn't really matter anyway. Castiel is just here to make him understand how serious their situation is.  
He is ready for Dean's accusations and anger. He doesn't expect anything else. After just one encounter with Dean, he thinks he knows. Everything needs time. Time he doesn't have. Time they don't have, but... Pointless thoughts.    
He knew that Dean would hold him responsible for what was happening with the Witnesses. He knew, though not his fault, that it doesn't matter to Dean, because people he cared about were dying. People close enough to him to care about, to take an interest in.    
He also knew that Dean would question the existence of God. Most humans do. It's only natural of them, he supposes.  
   
“There's a God.” he answers, his voice firm. This is not a matter of believing for Castiel.  

“I'm not convinced.'Cause if there's a God, what the hell is he waiting for, huh? Genocide? Monsters roaming the earth? The freaking apocalypse? At what point does he lift a damn finger and help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?” Dean demands, his voice rising with every word. 

“The Lord works...” he begins, the phrase worked before, Dean interrupts him. Of course he does. 

“If you say 'mysterious ways' so help me, I will kick your ass.” It makes him smile on the inside. “So Bobby was right about the Witnesses. This is some kind of a sign of the Apocalypse,” Dean wants to know. It's not really a question. He is pretty sure that it's the truth.  

“It's why we're here. Big things afoot,” he answers. Dean gives him a look, leaning on the kitchen counter. 

“I wanna know what kind of things.” 

“I sincerely doubt it, but you need to know.” It's the truth, as well. They need Dean. Castiel doesn't know why, but it's not his place to ask these questions.   
The story is told fast and he is only going for the facts. It would've been faster if Dean wouldn't interrupt him all the time. Humans are irritating, but Dean seems more so than others.    
There is just something about Dean that irritates him. He can't explain it. He knows, he knows that it's unnecessary to threaten Dean. That it may even interfere with his orders, his superior's plans. He can't stop himself. He is angry; he lost brothers. He lost more brothers than he had in a long, long time. Add in the seals and battles, he just keeps losing.  

“Our numbers are not unlimited. Six of my brothers died in the field this week. You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around? There's a bigger picture here. You should show me respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in.” It's not a lie. He could do that. Any angel is capable of doing it.    
Dean doesn't flinch, but he gives just a bit, just a few inches: his fingers slipping on the counter, his face turning away, his eyes... And Castiel leaves him there in the kitchen, in the dream. 

   
~5~  
It's not his idea. That's the only excuse he has. He is just following orders.  

“Hello Dean. What were you dreaming about?” he asks. The bed under him feels soft and the sheets somehow scratchy. Everything feels different, sharper. He feels Dean's weight, feels how he shifts, feels everything and his body just goes with it.  

“You get your freak on by watching other people sleep?”   
The truth is yes. Angels don't dream. It's interesting. He doesn't know how it feels. He doesn't know the first thing about humans, even with this human body he is in, he has no idea. It doesn't really matter in the long run, he guesses, as he will be killed for sure sooner or later. Being by Dean's side and given what Dean does and how he acts, Castiel knows it’ll be the latter. “What do you want?”  

“Listen to me, you have to stop it,” he answers. He knows of course that Dean can't, will not be able to, but that he will try nevertheless. It's what Dean does.  

“Stop what?”    
Maybe he should have answered, but it's not in his power to change anything. The things develop like they did before. Time is an endless circle.    
It wasn't his order to stop any of this in the first place. It wasn't his order to help Dean. When he's honest with himself, he isn't really sure what his orders are.    
Being by Dean's side?    

~6~  
There is something dark inside Sam. Castiel can see it, and he is sure Dean can see it, too. There is also something dark and sharp and ready to kill inside Dean. He tries to tame it with alcohol and women, but Castiel isn't too sure it works. Something broken, daring you to touch. It's like shards of glass; if you touch it, you'll bleed.   
Castiel has never seen such darkness before, and he is only touching the surface. Metaphorically speaking, of course. He doesn't touch Dean. Not since the first contact of light on skin. Fire and human flesh.  
This broken piece inside Dean is shaped like Mary, like John, like Sam. It’s a black silhouette of longing and loss and conflict, of feeling too much.    
It seems to sometimes overshadow the rest of his being. His soul, that fragile thing torn to pieces and sewn together with something that will hopefully hold long enough for Dean to finish the plans Heaven has for him.   
There is this obsession with saving everyone, especially his brother. Sam, Castiel is pretty sure, if his orders are anything to go by, is beyond any salvation anyone could offer. The only exception is maybe God, but Castiel doesn't know that for sure.   
Castiel can see all this, but he can't touch. He tries to help Dean in an awkward way, because he doesn't know what to do with all of this. With everything that is Dean. A human being so different from them all and, yet, the same.  

~7~  
With Dean it's always a form of confrontation. Fighting for control, for the right thing. The problem, Castiel thinks, is that Dean doesn't see, can't see, the bigger picture here. He only sees lives and his driving force is to save as many as he can. Castiel knows what Dean's done. Castiel knows all of Dean's secrets.  
   
“And is the witch dead?” he wants to know. This is important.   

“No, but...” Sam says and is interrupted by his brother. 

“We know who it is.” 

“Apparently the witch knows who you are too.” Castiel is not impressed. He picks up the hex bag to show it to Dean. The meaning, he thinks, is pretty clear. “This was inside the wall of your room. If we hadn't found it, surely one or both of you would be dead. Do you know where the witch is now?” He really hopes they do. He hopes he doesn't have to let Uriel kill thousands of people. It wouldn't go over well with Dean. He is sure of that.    

“We’re working on it,” Dean answers after exchanging a look with his brother. Castiel doesn't like to be in the same room with Sam. It makes him feel unclean. It's a strange feeling and he knows that it's the demon blood. 

“That's unfortunate.”  

“What do you care?” And there it is again, the confrontation. The fight. The invisible fist.  

“The raising of Samhain is one of the 66 seals,” he answers.   

“So this is about your buddy Lucifer.”  

“Lucifer is no friend of ours.”  
Castiel didn't want to bring Uriel with him, but they have their orders. He will obey, he always has. Always will.   

“It’s just an expression.”  

“Lucifer cannot rise. The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs.”  

“Okay, great, well now that you’re here, why don’t you tell us where the witch is. We’ll gank her and everybody goes home.” He can see how Dean's brain works, how his heart works. It's a soft pull inside him that always, always makes him step a bit closer, lets him sit on the bed Dean is sleeping in. He doesn't do it on purpose. Sometimes he doesn't even realize that he's doing it in the first place. 

“We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful, she’s cloaked even our methods.” 

“Okay, we already know who she is. So if we work together...” Sam says.

“Enough of this.” Uriel's voice rises above them, loud and forbidding. 

“Okay, who are you and why should I care?” Dean wants to know.   
“This is Uriel. He’s what you might call a specialist,” he answers.  

“What kind of specialist? What are you gonna do?” Dean asks. Sam is quiet and Castiel is strangely glad for it. He doesn't need an escalation right here, right now. 

“You- uh both of you, you need to leave this town immediately.”  

“Why?” Dean's voice is sharp and suspicious. Castiel should have known he wouldn't go, just because an angel told him to.   

“Because we’re about to destroy it.” The truth hurts his tongue. It burns at the back of it. He also knew that Dean wouldn't just let them, him, do it. Not without fighting. He maybe counted on it. A bit. “I’m sorry, but we have our orders,” he says.  

“No, you can’t do this, you’re angels, I mean aren’t you supposed to...” It's surprising in an unpleasant way that this comes from Sam. From Sam who is unclean, tainted with demon blood. Sam who still has faith, who maybe always had more faith than his brother.  

“You’re supposed to show mercy.”  

“Says who?” Uriel asks. He knew it was a bad idea to bring Uriel with him.  

“We have no choice.” And this is a lie.   

“Of course you have a choice, I mean, come on. What? You’ve never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?” Dean asks.   

“Look, even if you can’t understand it, have faith. The plan is just.” He isn't sure about it, but he has to believe in it. He has to believe in something.   

“How can you even say that?” How can Sam, _Sam_ , tainted human that he is, even question that?   

“Because it comes from heaven. That makes it just,” he answers, simply.  

“Oh, it must be nice, to be so sure of yourselves.” Dean's voice is taunting him.  

“Tell me something, Dean. When your father gave you an order, didn’t you obey?” he asks. It's a perfectly valid question and it's cruel and he knows it.    
The truth is they do have orders, and the orders involve Dean’s decisions. He has faith in Dean. It's new to have faith in someone who isn't his superior or God. It's strange to have faith in a human, because humans don't even have faith in themselves.  

~+~   
Dean does what he wants and everything goes not according to plan, but he isn't angry, and he should be. He is strangely relieved.     
He finds Dean later in the park, he doesn't even know why he seeks Dean out. He doesn't question it. Not now anyway.  

“Let me guess. You’re here for the ‘I told you so’.”  

“No,” he answers.  

“Well, good ‘cause I’m really not that interested.”  

“I am not here to judge you Dean,” he says. He is not here to judge Dean for this, although he thinks this was the right decision, even if they lost.   

“Then why are you here?” Dean sounds tired.  

“Our orders...” he begins.   

“Yeah, you know, I’ve had about enough of these orders of yours...”  

“Our orders were not to stop the summoning of Samhain, they were to do whatever you told us to do,” he says smoothly, ignoring Dean's interruption.  

“Your orders were to follow my orders?” Dean asks in disbelief.  

“It was a test, to see how you would perform under battlefield conditions, you might say.” It's strange to say that, because Dean always seems to perform under these conditions. His whole life has been a battlefield. 

“It was a witch, not the Tet Offensive,” Dean answers. It makes him laugh, he can't help it. “So, I uh- failed your test, huh? I get it. But you know what? If you were to wave that magic time traveling wand of yours and we had to do it all over again, I’d make the same call. ‘Cause see, I don’t know what’s gonna happen when these seals are broken. Hell, I don’t even know what’s gonna happen tomorrow. But what I do know is, that this, here? These kids, the swings, the trees, all of it is still here because of my brother and me.”  

“You misunderstand me Dean, I’m not like you think. I was praying that you would choose to save the town.” He doesn't even know why he says it, maybe because Dean needs to hear it. Maybe because he needs Dean to hear it.    

“You were?” Dean sounds surprised and Castiel can't blame him for it. He looks over the playground the kids, the trees, the sky.  

“These people, they’re all my father’s creations. They’re works of art. And yet, even though you stopped Samhain, the seal was broken. And we are one step closer to Hell on earth, for all creation. And that’s not an expression, Dean. It’s literal. You, of all people, should appreciate what that means. Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?” 

“Okay,” Dean answers, wry amusement in his voice. Castiel thinks he likes hearing it.    

“I’m not a hammer as you say, I have questions. I have doubts. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, whether you passed or failed here. But in the coming months you will have more decisions to make. I don’t envy the weight that’s on your shoulders, Dean. I truly don’t.” He looks at Dean then and when Dean looks away again he leaves him there in the park, with the kids and trees and swings he saved.    
He never told that to anyone and he is not sure if it was wise to tell Dean, but if anyone, Dean would understand. Dean's father was as demanding as his own after all.

    
~Interlude~  
The first time Dean calls him 'Cas', it's to make sure he understands that Dean isn't afraid or that he will yield to Castiel's authority. In fact, Castiel thinks it's because Dean wants to make sure Castiel knows that there is no authority. That Castiel can't make him do anything he doesn't want to do.  
That no one can.   

~8~  
There is this feeling inside him he can't really define. It is there like an old wound. Making his guts twist in an unpleasant way he can't really describe.   
It takes him a while to realize that it always occurs when Dean is talking to Anna. It seems Anna is the only other angel Dean can stand to have around him. And he guesses she is pretty, appealing to the human eye. He isn't sure his own form, this body he borrowed from Jimmy, is what humans would consider good looking. It wasn't his main concern when he took it.  
He doesn't know why he watches, silently, invisible. Maybe because he is here to watch over Dean, maybe... Maybe it's something else he doesn't want to think about too deeply. 

~+~   
He has orders and he needs to follow them. There is nothing else, is there? The only other option is rebellion and he can't do that, or falling from grace and he can't imagine what he would do as a human being. It's out of the question to even think about it.  

~9~  
“What the hell?”  

“Guess again,” Castiel says. He kind of likes the way humans speak. He is still not familiar with all of it, but he is getting there. Being around Dean certainly helps.  

“What just happened?”  

“You and Sam just saved a seal. We captured Alastair. Dean, this was a victory.” Can't Dean see that? Isn't it obvious? Maybe they can win after all.  

“Well, no thanks to you,” Dean bites out. Castiel wants to shakes his head, or shake Dean. 

“What makes you say that?” he asks, because why, why does Dean always do that? How can he make Castiel feel like this?  

“You were here the whole time?” It's not really a question.  

“Enough of it,” he admits.  

“Thanks for your help with the rock-salt.” 

“That script on the funeral home… we couldn't penetrate it,” he answers. He thinks Dean should know that. He uses sigils to get rid of demons, to prevent them from entering homes, circles. Isn't it only natural that there are some that prevent angels to do the same? Besides, he has seen Anna use the angel banishing sigil. He should have known.      

“That was angel proof...” 

“Why did you think I recruited you and Sam in the first place?” 

“You recruited us?” Dean asks.  

“That wasn't your friend Bobby who called, Dean. It wasn't Bobby who told Sam about the seal...” he answers.  

“That was you.” Not a question either. He nods. “If you want our help, why the hell didn't you just ask?” 

“Because whatever I ask, you seem to do the exact opposite,” he answers. Maybe if he were human it would anger him, but right now this habit of Dean's is just irritating and hindering.    

“So what now? The people in this town, they just gonna start dying again?” Dean ignores Castiel’s words completely. He knew it would turn out like this. Dean just doesn't want to like him. He blames all the stuff that happens on Castiel, as if it's Castiel's fault. It's not. It's Dean's in some way, but Castiel can't tell him that. Not now, maybe never. 

“Yes.” 

“These are good people, don't you think you can make a few exceptions?” 

“To everything there is a season,” he answers. It's true, but to Dean it must sound like a platitude. 

“You made an exception for me,” Dean says. There is something in his voice. Something he can't...maybe if it was someone else he would say it was a plea. But this is Dean, so he dismisses that thought as soon as it occurs.  

“You're different.” He isn't sure what he means exactly anymore. Dean is different, but he isn't sure it's only because he is Dean or because Castiel likes him. It's unnerving not to know these things. Everything seemed so clear before he met Dean.  

~10~  
“Dean, you are our best hope.” It hurts to say it. It really does.

“No. No way. You can't ask me to do this, Cas. Not this,” Dean answers and it hurts to look at Dean, so he avoids it. It hurts to think about it, so he lets Uriel do it for him.    
There is this thing that feels like a lion eating away at his liver. It feels like dying might feel in degrees. Slow and painful and all too human and he wants it to stop. 

“What's going on, Cas? Since when does Uriel put a leash on you?” 

“My superiors have begun to question my sympathies,” he answers truthfully.  

“Your sympathies?” 

“I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You. Your brother. They feel I've begun to express emotions. The doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgement.” 

“So they knock you down the ladder and they put Uriel in charge?” 

“He is a proud and able instrument of God,” Castiel answers.  

“The demotion, doesn't it get your loincloth in a twist?” 

“It is what it is.” 

“Well, tell Uriel, or whoever...you do not want me doing this, trust me,” Dean says. He sounds determined and broken. It's something only humans can do. Sound like that, be like that, feel like that.   

“Want it, no. But I have been told we need it.” And he knows, deep down, he knows it isn't right, it can't ever be right to ask something like this. He pushes this thought aside as well.  

“Cas, the things that I did, what I became...you ask me to open that door and walk through it, you will not like what walks back out.” There it is again. That pet-name. Something he wouldn't...something no one ever did before.  

“You know what we're all fighting for. And dying for. What Pamela lost her life for. You know what will happen if we fail. For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this.” It's true, but he has orders and they need to know all that Alastair knows. They need to know and Dean can make him talk. 

“I'll need a few things,” he says, closing his eyes.    
Castiel doesn't want to look at him, doesn't want to see the additional silhouette that is shaped like him in the darkness of what became of Dean's soul. He doesn't want to, but he looks anyway. Dean deserves that.    
It smells like blood, sharp and unpleasant, that he can smell through thick doors. The smell of pain and agony and lost hope (the latter from Dean). It makes his skin crawl in a way it didn't used to do before. He can't turn it off, the smell, the misery, the cries of pain.    

“Why are you letting Dean do this?” Anna asks. 

“He's doing God's work.” 

“Torturing? That's God's work? Stop him, Cas, please. Before you ruin the one real weapon you have,” she says, and why does everybody think they can call him by this pet-name? Why does it irritate him when it's not Dean doing it? 

“Who are we to question the will of God?” 

“Unless this isn't His will,” she answers. 

“Then where do the orders come from?” 

“I don't know. One of our superiors, maybe, but not Him,” she says. He knows she believes it. Her God is not his. Her God is what his God used to be. Her God is still merciful. Still love and light and life. His God is something else. And that's maybe why he wants so badly to believe her.    
He wants her to tell him what to do because he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know, and she has been here before. Was standing on the edge of a cliff and she jumped. She was brave, unlike him. He isn't brave. He is just...a soldier, he thinks, and even in his own head it sounds wrong. He is a solider of God.    
But what if God is dead? What if they are right? All these humans who don't believe, who don't have any faith left? And can he blame them? He doesn't think he can.

~Interlude~  
“Are you all right?” he asks. He thinks he hates hospitals. They smell like death. He stayed at Dean's side for hours. He didn't need to, but he wanted to, without knowing why. 

“No thanks to you,” Dean says sharply. Castiel can't blame him for it. 

“You need to be more careful.” 

“You need to learn how to manage a damn devil's trap,” Dean bites back.  
Something deep inside him is shaking, like a small child, crying for help, Castiel thinks. 

“That's not what I mean. Uriel is dead.” He doesn't tell Dean that Anna did it. What does it matter? 

“Was it the demons?” 

“It was disobedience. He was working against us.” Maybe he wants Dean to know after all.  

“Is it true? Did I break the first seal? Did I start all this?” Dean asks out of the blue. 

“Yes. When we discovered Lilith's plan for you, we laid siege to Hell and we fought our way to get to you before you...” There is no point in lying now.  

“Jump-started the apocalypse.” 

“And we were too late,” he answers. He tried so hard, he tried so very hard, to be in time. 

“Why didn't you just leave me there, then?” Dean asks, and Castiel knows he thinks he deserves it. Deserves to go to Hell and stay there for the rest of eternity.  

“It's not blame that falls on you, Dean, it's fate. The righteous man who begins it is the only one who can finish it. You have to stop it.” 

“Lucifer? The apocalypse? What does that mean? Hey! Don't you go disappearing on me, you son of a bitch. What does that mean?” he asks, pissed off.  

“I don't know.” He doesn't. He wishes he did, but he doesn't.  

“Bull.” 

“I don't. Dean, they don't tell me much. I know our fate rests with you.” He thinks maybe it's too much to ask from one person.  

“Well, then you guys are screwed. I can't do it, Cas. It's too big. Alastair was right. I'm not all here. I'm not strong enough. Well, I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be. Find someone else. It's not me,” he answers, turning his head away so that Castiel doesn't see him cry.  
His fingers itch. He wants to help. He wants to be what Dean needs now. He wants to touch. He reaches over and lays his hand on the sheets, inches away from Dean's body. Not touching, just feeling the body heat, the soft tremors of Dean's body as he cries. And then a finger touches his, soft and hesitant. He doesn't dare look down, staring ahead at the blank white wall. He wants to say something, but doesn't dare.    
It feels like first contact. Different than light on soul, or light on flesh, this feels like more. He just can't say what it is exactly.    
A beginning or just a fleeting ending, he isn't sure. He rests his finger against Dean's in silence until Dean falls asleep.  

   
~11~  
Castiel is pretty sure that he isn't what Dean is praying for, but Castiel is the only one who cares enough to be there. To show up at the parking lot of a cheap motel to answer Dean's prayer. That thing that Dean thinks is a prayer and maybe it is, is heartfelt and true.  

“Prayer is a sign of faith. This is a good thing, Dean.” 

“So does that mean you'll help me?” he asks, and he sounds hopeful.  

“I'm not sure what I can do.” He knows, of course, what Dean wants him to do. 

“Drag Sam out of here...now. Before Lilith shows up,” Dean answers. His tone indicates that Castiel should have known that. 

“It's a prophecy. I can't interfere.” Even as he says it he knows it's the wrong thing. With Dean he never knows what the wrong thing might be. He can't look at Dean, can't stand his proximity, just can't. He can see their breath mingle, human and angel in a human's body. They aren't that different when it comes to the simple needs, he thinks.  

“You have tested me and thrown me every which way. And I have never asked for anything. Not a damn thing. But now I'm asking. I need your help. Please.” 

“What you're asking, it's... not within my power to do.” He isn't lying here. He tries not to lie to Dean. They are on shaky ground. Their friendship, if he can call it that, is on very thin ice. One wrong step and it all comes crashing down around him. Around them.  

“Why? 'Cause it's 'divine prophecy'?” he demands to know.  

“Yes.” 

“So, what... We're just supposed to sit around and, and wait for it to happen?” 

“I'm sorry,” he answers. He really is sorry. 

“Screw you. You and your mission. Your God. If you don't help me now, then when the time comes and you need me...don't bother knocking,” Dean says, angrily, and starts walking away. Castiel can't let this happen and he is well aware that he is not doing this for the greater good. He is doing this for himself.  

“Dean.” The first one is just above a whisper. He isn't sure Dean heard him. “Dean!” 

“What?” he asks sharply, but he stops and looks around at Castiel.  

“You must understand why I can't intercede. Prophets are very special. They're protected.” It's not against his orders to let Dean know that. 

“I get that,” he snaps.  

“If anything threatens a prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear to destroy that threat. Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're heaven's most terrifying weapon.” 

“And these archangels, they're tied to prophets?” he asks, coming closer. Every step makes something deep inside his guts tingle. He doesn't think about it. It's not the time for this anyway. 

“Yes." 

“So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon...” 

“Then the most fearsome wrath of heaven would rain down on that demon. Just so you understand... why I can't help.” 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says, and Castiel can't explain why it sounds so different from Dean's lips than any others.  

“Good luck.”  

   
~12~  
There are things that Castiel knows and he thinks Dean needs to know as well.    
He takes maybe three breaths to admire what is inside Dean's head when he isn't thinking about his life.  

“We need to talk,” he says. 

“I'm dreaming, aren't I?” Dean asks.  

“It's not safe here. Some place more private,” Castiel says, ignoring Dean's question. He doesn't want to be here. Doesn't want to stay in Dean's head with all these thoughts.  

“More private? We're inside my _head_.” 

“Exactly. Someone could be listening.” He doesn't know why he has to say it. He is here, so of course anyone else could be too. Any angel who wanted.  

“Cas, what's wrong?” 

“Meet me here,” he answers, slipping Dean a piece of paper. Their fingers brush softly for a brief moment and it makes him want...something in a way he knows he shouldn't. “Go now.”  

   
~Interlude~  
There is light, because there is always light and pain. And he knows on some level of his higher being that he doesn't deserve this. Not this.  It's true he was considering disobedience, but he didn't, not really and maybe he also helped Dean where he wasn't allowed. Went against his orders for a human, for a tool in a greater scheme. And this is his punishment. Pulled out of Jimmy's body and back here into the light and the pain. Endless pain like circles and waves. Steady and eternal and never-ending. There are voices whispering to him like feathers, soft, listing all his crimes in great detail. He has no chance to defend himself, the pain makes him blind, makes him deaf, makes him unable to think. The only constant is the light and with it comes the pain. A steady rhythm he can't control or fight.  

“All of this for a human...” the voices whisper. They sound disapproving, like a father of a disobedient child.   
The voices don't tell him if he ever can go back. Back to Earth, back to his mission, back to Dean. He doesn't think he will be able to, he doesn't think they'll let him. He had his chance and he blew it, as Dean would say. There is something that feels hot at these words, these thoughts, inside him. It makes him want to laugh. He doesn't. The pain is too great, too all-consuming. If he were human, he maybe would've passed out by now, but he is not human. He can't pass out from it. The only salvation is death. And in his weaker moments, he prays for it.

  
 ~13~  
He didn't think they would send him back again. Maybe they only did it because their numbers aren't unlimited, he doesn't know.  
When he arrives in the warehouse he is confronted with death and chaos. But it seems he is always confronted with death and blood when he's with Dean.  
His vessel is dying and he could choose another one, but he has grown attached to this one, so he saves Jimmy. It's an act of mercy.

“Cas, hold up.”  
Castiel turns and looks at him. Dean, the human he risked so much for.

“What were you gonna tell me?” 

“I learned my lesson while I was away, Dean,” he says and doesn't think of all the light and wave after wave of pain. “I serve heaven, I don't serve man and I certainly don't serve _you_.” Something inside him feels broken like tiny pieces of glass but he chooses to ignore it.  
 __

_II. Castiel_  

~1~  
Dean is fully aware that he and Castiel started on the wrong foot. After all, he shot first and asked questions later. That’s just how he was raised. So before any words were even spoken Castiel had a bullet in his chest. Not the best way to start a relationship. On the other hand, Bobby shot him as well. It's all about perspective, really, and getting over grudges. The thing is, it seems easier to trust Castiel these days than his own brother. What with Sam telling him shit. He hates to admit it, but he feels betrayed by Sam.  
It's breaking his heart to put Sam into that room. He can't stand the screams. He can't stand any of this. He takes another swig from the bottle, feels the cheap whiskey run down his throat, burning a trail down to his stomach and then he puts it aside and screams. He doesn't care how long it will take. He'll just wait. Somehow he doubts Castiel can ignore him for very long.

“Well, it's about time. I've been screaming myself hoarse out here for about two and a half hours now.” It might even be true, he thinks.  

  
“What do you want?” Castiel asks, something about him is different, pained.  

“You can start with what the hell happened in Illinois,” he answers. 

“What do you mean?”

“Cut the crap. You were gonna tell me something.” 

“Well, nothing of import,” he answers.  

“You got ass-reamed in heaven but it was not of import?” 

“Dean, I can't. I'm sorry. Get to the reason you really called me. It's about Sam, right?” he asks. 

“Can he do it? Kill Lilith, stop the apocalypse?” he wants to know. All this is pretty messed up, he needs something that makes sense. And how the hell did Castiel become this something in all this madness?  

“Possibly, yes. But as you know, he'd have to take certain steps.” 

“Crank up the hell-blood regimen,” he answers. 

“Consuming the amount of blood it would take to kill Lilith would change your brother forever. Most likely, he would become the next creature that you would feel compelled to kill. There's no reason this would have to come to pass, Dean. We believe it's you, Dean, not your brother. The only question for us is whether you're willing to accept it. Stand up and accept your role. You are the one who will stop it.” 

“If I do this, Sammy doesn't have to?” he asks. He feels vulnerable out in the open like this, but it's not like he doesn't know that Sam is his weakness.  

“If it gives you comfort to see it that way.” 

“God, you're a dick these days,” he says and means it. He kind of liked the old Castiel. This here is the stupid ass he wanted to shoot on sight, correction: he shot on sight. He doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know he can trust Castiel anymore. But he doesn't really have a choice here either, does he? It's him or Sam, and Sam is not up to do anything right now. There aren't even words in his head for how wrong this is. “Fine, I'm in.” 

“You give yourself over wholly to the service of God and his angels?” Castiel asks.  

“Yeah, exactly.” 

“Say it,” Castiel demands, and he really wants to punch that fucker or crack his head against a wall. 

“I give myself over wholly to serve god and you guys,” he answers. 

“You swear to follow His will and His word as swiftly and obediently as you did your own father's?” 

“Yes, I swear. Now what?” 

“Now you wait, and we call on you when it's time.”  
God, Castiel is such a fucking dick, he thinks. 

~Interlude~  
“This is a good thing...” Castiel says. “You're doing the right thing.”  
Dean wants to punch him. He knows that, he doesn't need a god-damned angel to tell him these things. The night is cold and the sky is starless. Too many clouds.

“I know!” he snaps, taking another swig. Damn, maybe he should be more sober for this shit. The truth is, he doesn't like to be too sober for this shit.

“Dean...”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Castiel answers, sitting down on the hood beside Dean and fucking stays silent.

“Why are you still here?” Dean asks after an eternity of silence and night.

“I don't know,” Castiel admits. So, Dean thinks, that makes two of them. He doesn't know either.

“You wanted to tell me something...before they got you,” he tries again.

“I serve Heaven,” Castiel answers.

“You always served heaven,” Dean says. Castiel keeps quiet and Dean takes another sip from the bottle.

~2~    
Fuck the green room, fuck the burgers, fuck Zachariah. And fuck Castiel. That stupid bastard can't even look him in the eyes. He knows that something is wrong, something in his gut tells him that Zachariah isn't one of the good guys here. There is something that makes his fucking alarm bells ring really loud.  

~+~  
He needs to talk to Sam. He needs to talk to Sam in person.  
This whole thing is so frustrating. Waiting,doing nothing. That is just not him. He wants to destroy something.

“You asked to see me?” 

“Yeah, listen, I, uh, I-I need something.” He knows he looks guilty and maybe he feels a bit guilty. It was not that figurine's fault he is here, after all. But it's not like they can't just replace it. 

“Anything you wish.” 

“I need you to take me to see Sam,” he answers.  

“Why?” 

“There's something I got to talk to him about.” God, this is frustrating. Castiel is kind of frustrating as well.  

“What's that?” 

“The B.M. I took this morning. What's it to you? Just make it snappy,” he answers, sarcasm in his voice. What the fuck is wrong with Cas anyway these days?  

“I don't think that's wise.” 

“Well, I didn't ask you for your opinion.” He doesn't give a damn what Castiel thinks is wise. Not right now. 

“Have you forgotten what happened the last time you met?” 

“No. That's the whole point. Listen, I'm gonna do whatever you mooks want, okay? I just need to tie up this one thing. Five minutes - that's all I need.”  

“No.” 

“What do you mean, no? Are you saying that I'm trapped here?” Because oh fuck, he just knew it. He can't trust anyone anymore.  

“You can go wherever you want,” Castiel answers calmly. That son of a bitch.  

“Super. I want to go see Sam.” 

“Except there,” Castiel says and why isn't he surprised in the least?  

“I want to take a walk.” 

“Fine. I'll go with you.” 

“Alone.” 

“No.” 

“You know what? Screw this noise. I'm out of here,” he says, he has enough of this shit.  

“Through what door?” Castiel asks and he makes the mistake of turning around. He knows it's a mistake as soon as he does it. 

“Damn it!”  

~+~  
Great, just fucking great. He is a prisoner in an angel green room, waiting for the main act: The Apocalypse. How fucked up can a life get?  
There is only one thing to do: Get out of here.  
The problem is that it is an angel prison. He can't get out, though not for a lack of trying. It's just that whatever he tries doesn't work.  
He hates Zachariah. There is no doubt about it. He knew he couldn't trust this bastard. He knew and still, fuck. This is so much more worse than he thought it could be.  
He needs to call Sam, needs him to understand, needs...a fucking signal!  
“You can't reach him, Dean. You're outside your coverage zone.” 

“What are you gonna do to Sam?” he asks, turning around to look at Castiel. He puts his useless phone into his pocket. Fuck all this. 

“Nothing. He's gonna do it to himself.” 

“What's that supposed to mean?” he demands and that stupid son of a bitch doesn't even look at him. “Oh, right, right. Got to toe the company line. Why are you here, Cas?” He really wants an answer to that. 

“We've been through much together, you and I. And I just wanted to say, I'm sorry it ended like this,” Castiel answers.  

"Sorry?” he asks and he wants to punch that motherfucker, he really does and well, that's why he does punch him. It hurts like hell. “It's Armageddon, Cas. You need a bigger word than "sorry."  
“Try to understand this is long foretold. This is your...” 

“Destiny? Don't give me that 'holy' crap. Destiny, god's plan... It's all a bunch of lies, you poor, stupid son of a bitch! It's just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep you in line! You know what's real? People, families -- that's real. And you're gonna watch them all burn?” he asks and Castiel is instantly in his face. Too close. They are always too close.  

“What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here. I see inside you. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In Paradise, all is forgiven. You'll be at peace. Even with Sam.” 

“You can take your peace... and shove it up your lily-white ass.'Cause I'll take the pain and the guilt. I'll even take Sam as is. It's a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise."  


“Dean...”

He doesn't want to hear it. ”We're done!” 

~+~  
Maybe Castiel isn't such a dick after all.  
There is blood and a flash of light and then they are standing in Chuck's kitchen.

“St. Mary's? What is it, a convent?” Dean asks, looking over the pages, reading franticly.  

“Yeah, but you guys aren't supposed to be there. You're not in this story.” 

“Yeah, well...” Castiel says with a glance at Dean. Something inside him feels warm like sunshine for a second, peaceful like that dream he shared with Castiel before he was dragged away. “We're making it up as we go.” There is rumbling and white light and Dean knows what it is. Chuck's Archangel. Fuck. 

“Aw, man! Not again!” 

“It's the Archangel." Cas says and sends him away.

  
~3~  
The only positive thing is that he was able to kill that demon bitch. Plus, they aren't dead. Has to count for something he thinks. He has no clue why they aren't dead, but hey, Dean takes what he can get. As long as he is alive he can still try and stop the whole apocalypse thing.  
The worst thing is finding out that Cas is dead. He's so fucking angry at Cas for dying. He needs Cas, needs an angel on his side because he now knows that Zachariah is not on his side. For all his ‘You want to kill the devil, we want you to kill the devil crap’, he doesn't trust Zachariah, or any of the other angels, one bit. Cas, Cas died for them, for Dean. That's the simple truth and if you can't trust someone like that, you can't trust anyone.    
      
    
~4~  
Knowing that he is THE Vessel, to use Zachariah's words, son of a bitch that he is, doesn't make things any better. If anything, things are getting worse and that is saying something when you have front row seats for the freaking apocalypse. “Life just sucks ass”, to quote the prophet.  
Stage-four stomach cancer can bring you down as well. Knowing that your brother doesn't have any lungs in his body and the only one that could help you now is dead, he thinks, looking down. Fuck. His blood is on the floor.  
It always seems to be his blood or someone's he cares about these days.  
Fuck.   

~+~  
He should have learned by now, he thinks, when Castiel starts kicking ass, that life is very unpredictable.  
“How are you...?” Zachariah asks.  

“Alive? That's a good question. How did these two end up on that airplane? Another good question. 'Cause the angels didn't do it. I think we both know the answer, don't we?” Castiel answers. Blood drips from the knife he used to kill two angels, two of his brothers, two of his kind. Dean doesn't want to think about it, can't afford to think about it now. 

“No. That's not possible.” 

“It scares you,” Castiel answers, looking fierce, “Well, it should. Now, put these boys back together and go. I won't ask twice,” he adds and Zachariah vanishes, Dean can breathe without spitting blood and he thinks Sam is okay as well. Something inside him bristles at the word 'boy' because he became a man far earlier than he should have. “You two need to be more careful.” Castiel says. 

“Yeah, I'm starting to get that. Your frat brothers are bigger dicks than I thought,” Dean answers.  

“I don't mean the angels. Lucifer is circling his vessel. And once he takes it, those hex bags won't be enough to protect you,” Castiel says, matter of factly and then just puts his hands on them. It hurts, but it doesn’t. It isn’t pleasurable, except how it kind of is, like this one moment when everything is too much and you just want to jump, fall, be pushed over the edge.  

“What the hell was that?” he asks.  

“An Enochian sigil. It'll hide you from every angel in creation, including Lucifer.” 

“What, you just brand us with it?” he wants to know, he already has a nice hand-shaped scar.  

“No. I carved it into your ribs,” Castiel answers. Dean honestly isn't sure that is much better, but it's still cool. Somehow.  
“Hey, Cas, were you really dead?” 

“Yes,” Castiel says and Dean thinks they have a lot in common now, maybe too much. Too fucking much.  

“Then how are you back?” he asks and he doesn't really expect an answer. He suspects that Castiel doesn't have one either.

~5~  
So, okay it's pretty fucking obvious that Cas is on a mission here. Dean wants to tell him that finding god is a foolish thing; that it's something that can't be done. But he doesn't. Well... 

“God?“

“Yes.”

“God.” Because, what?

“Yes! He isn't in Heaven. He has to be somewhere,” Castiel answers. 

“Try New Mexico. I hear he's on a tortilla,” Dean says. Damn he's such a jerk sometimes, but hey, he isn't the one who wants to find god, he thinks 

“No, he's not on any flatbread.” Castiel looks a bit puzzled and a bit like Dean is the retarded one. Nice. 

“Listen, Chuckles, even if there is a god, he is either dead - and that's the generous theory...”

“He is out there, Dean,” Castiel interrupts him.

“Or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us.” Castiel glares at him. ”I mean, look around you, man. The world is in the toilet. We are literally...” he makes a hand gesture that indicates everything and nothing “at the end of days here, and he's off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut. All right?”

“Enough.” Castiel's tone doesn't leave room for any arguments.  “This is not a theological issue. It's strategic,” he says. “With God's help, we can win.”  
Which yeah, true, but god doesn't exist. And that is a major flaw in the plan.

“It's a pipe dream, Cas.”

“I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you, and you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world...” he says hotly, standing too close for Dean's comfort. “And I lost everything, for nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself,” he finishes and the 'I did it for you' plays in Dean's head on repeat. The problem is that it's the fucking truth.

“You didn't drop in just to tear us a new hole. What is it you want?” Bobby asks.

“I did come for something. An amulet.” he says with more composure. 

“An amulet? What kind?” Bobby wants to know.

“Very rare. Very powerful.” Of course what the fuck else, Dean thinks. “It burns hot in God's presence. It'll help me find him.”

“A God EMF?” Sam throws in. Castiel nods.

“Well, I don't know what you're talking about. I got nothing like that,” Bobby answers.

“I know. You don't,” Castiel says. He looks at Dean as he says it, dropping his gaze to Dean's amulet and then looks up at Dean's face again. 

“What, this?”

“May I borrow it?” Castiel asks. Fuck, so polite. 

“No,” he answers. Just no. 

“Dean. Give it to me,” Castiel demands. 

Dean keeps silent for a moment thinking this whole thing through.   
“All right, I guess,” he says then. He owes it to Castiel after all the shit that has happened.  He takes it off and holds it out, then pulls it back when Castiel reaches for it. “Don't lose it,” he says seriously. It means a fucking lot to him. Castiel takes it without a word. “Great. Now I feel naked.”

“I'll be in touch,” he says and disappears. Dean thinks he really should tell Cas to stop doing that. It's unnerving to say the least.

~6~  
Being without Sammy is not a big deal, not at all. He has done it once before. Sam left and didn't want to come back. Now he’s left again and the only thing he feels right now is relief. Maybe he shouldn't feel like that, but he can't help it. The truth is that he cares too much and yet not enough. He is afraid for Sam, maybe afraid _of_ Sam, but he doesn't think about that too deeply. He doesn't want to. It makes him uneasy.  
He slips into a routine fairly quickly, and maybe if he would take a minute to think about all this, he would find that it's unhealthy, but he doesn't.  

~+~  
He dampens a wash cloth in the motel room sink and starts to clean his jacket. Goddamned fucking blood, he thinks just before Castiel appears behind him. He startles when he sees Castiel in the mirror.

“God,” he says leaning onto the sink. “Don't do that.”

“Hello, Dean.”  
Dean turns around and Castiel is standing only inches away. “Cas, we've talked about this. Personal space?” he asks. He isn't really sure why it makes him so uncomfortable. It's adding to all the messed up feelings raging inside him already. He can't be thinking about this now, can't deal with this shit.

“My apologies,” Castiel answers, stepping back. Dean grabs his jacket and walks towards the bed, just away from the proximity. Too close, too fucking close. 

“How'd you find me? I thought I was flying below the angel radar?” he asks, one hand rubbing over his ribs. He can't feel it, but it's strange to know that there are sigils carved into his bones. 

“You are. Bobby told me where you were,” he says, looking around, “Where's Sam?” he asks. 

“Me and Sam are taking separate vacations for a while. So...” he says shrugging. Castiel keeps silent. It's one of those things he finds unnerving about Castiel. His ability to seem human one moment and not the next.

“You find god yet? More importantly, can I have my damn necklace back, please?”

“No, I haven't found Him. That's why I'm here. I need your help,” Castiel answers.

“With what? God hunt? Not interested.” Because he is really not. He does something practical in his free time: killing monsters, hunting demons, getting laid. 

“It's not God. It's someone else,” Castiel answers, calmly. 

“Who?”

“Archangel. The one who killed me,” Castiel says.

“'Scuse me?”

“His name is Raphael.”

“You were wasted by a teenage mutant ninja angel?” he asks. 

“I've heard whispers that he's walking the earth. This is a rare opportunity,” Castiel says not really understanding Dean’s joke about turtles. In his opinion, they’re beautiful creatures.

“For what? Revenge?” Dean wants to know. He gets it. If anything he gets that Castiel wants revenge. God, he wants it. 

“Information,” Castiel answers.   
He thinks about it while he goes back over to the sink, picks up his knife and a washcloth, and starts to clean the knife. It's something to do while he is thinking. 

“So, what, you think you can find this dude and he's just gonna spill god's address?” he asks.

“Yes, because we are gonna trap him and interrogate him.”  
Dean pauses and turns back to look at Castiel's back. Damn that angel.

“You're serious about this.” And it's not a question. He is pretty sure Castiel is deadly serious about it. Castiel turns to look at Dean.  
“So, what, I'm Thelma and you're Louise and we're just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together?” he asks and has really no idea why he said it. It wasn’t called for. Fuck. The good thing is that Castiel doesn't get it anyway. He looks confused. He always looks like that when he doesn’t get one of Dean's pop culture references. He puts the knife into his bag and turns to look at Castiel, who is standing really close again. Maybe he should learn not to mind that much.  
“Give me one good reason why I should do this.”

“Because you're Michael's vessel and no angel will dare harm you,” Castiel answers.

“Oh, so I'm your bullet shield.” He knows he sounds a bit pissed off, but hell, he is. 

“I need your help because you are the only one who'll help me. Please,” Castiel says and Dean can't remember a time he said please before. He thinks Castiel never has, so this means something. Something is changing, has changed already. 

“All right, fine. Where is he?” he asks. He does owe Castiel this. 

“Maine. Let's go.”  
Well, no zapping for him. They are so driving this time. He hates flying and all the other ways of transportation that don't involve being in touch with mother earth. No zapping. 

~+~  
He knew that becoming Michael’s vessel would be a bad idea, but he had really no fucking clue how bad. Seeing that poor bastard in the hospital just strengthens his resolve. No way is he becoming Michael's vessel. 

~+~  
He hates it when Cas disappears on him like that. He hates it a lot. Note to self, he thinks, tell Cas not to do that. He walks through the empty cabin, paging through John's journal, a bit restless and wondering where his...where Cas is. Just as he sets it down on the table and turns Castiel is there, reappeared, holding a ceramic jar.

“Where've you been?”

“Jerusalem,” Castiel answers. 

“Oh, how was it?” Dean asks. Fuck, this is so surreal and he has dealt with a lot of surreal shit in his life. 

“Arid,” Castiel answers, setting the jar on the table. What else, Dean thinks. It's the fucking desert. 

“What's that?” he asks, with a nod at the jar.

“It's oil. It's very special. Very rare,” he answers, sitting down.

“Okay, so we trap Raphael with a nice vinaigrette?”

“No.” Dean just _loves_ monosyllabic answers.   
“So this ritual of yours, when does it got to go down?” he asks.

“Sunrise.” Or you know answers that just consist of one word. It's lovely. 

“Tell me something. You keep saying we're gonna trap this guy. Isn't that kinda like trapping a hurricane with a butterfly net?”

“No, it's harder,” Castiel answers. It might be sarcasm from anyone else, it's not when Castiel says it. 

“Do we have any chance of surviving this?”

“You do.”

“So, odds are you're a dead man tomorrow,” he answers. Again, he thinks. 

“Yes.”

Stoic bastard, Dean thinks. “Well. Last night on earth. What are your plans?” 

“I just thought I'd sit here quietly.”

“Come on, anything? Booze, women?” Dean says, his voice a bit lower that usual. Castiel glances at Dean and then away again, uncomfortable. “You have been with women before. Right? Or an angel, at least?” He remembers Anna and how fierce she was and wasn't she Cas' superior?  
Castiel rubs the back of his neck. “You mean to tell me you've never been up there doing a little cloud-seeding?”

“I've never had occasion, okay?” Castiel says and it might sound a bit pissed off, just a bit. 

“All right,” Dean says, grabbing his jacket. “Let me tell you something. There are two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. Two, you are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go.” He doesn't wait for Castiel to follow him.

  
~7~  
It's pretty clear that Castiel has a lot of issues of his own. Especially when it comes to god. Who the fuck is he to throw the first stone? He always did what his Dad said, didn't he? Well, until he didn't. The thing with Raphael is a whole other dimension of issues. Understandable, after all, this is the one that killed Castiel. Dean thinks he would've been a bit pissed off as well. Or, you know, a fucking lot.

“If God is dead, why have I returned? Who brought me back?” he asks. 

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe Lucifer raised you?” Raphael answers. Something in Castiel's face shifts. Just for a second, but Dean is paying fucking attention. This is taking a lot out of Cas, even if he doesn't say a word. He doesn't need to. Dean knows all about this stuff. 

“No.” There is no room for arguing in Cas' voice. 

“Think about it. He needs all the rebellious angels he can find. You know it adds up.”

“Let's go,” Castiel says, turning around. Dean thinks they have heard enough. Nothing that Raphael says is worth anything.

“Castiel, I'm warning you. Do not leave me here. I will find you,” Raphael warns. 

Castiel turns to face him. “Maybe one day. But today, you're my little bitch.”  

Dean is fucking impressed. It's still fucked up how messed up Castiel is in reality when you look closely, but hey, who the fuck isn't in this world? He doesn't know anyone who isn't. So why would Castiel be an exception? Just because he is a fucking angel? They are dicks...most of them. He pauses for a moment to look at the trapped Archangel. “What he said,” he says and follows Castiel outside.  

~+~  
The car feels like home even with Castiel there instead of Sam. The car is home, and that...he thinks he uses the phrase 'messed up' a bit too much for his liking.

“You okay?” he asks, risking a glance at Cas. Castiel keeps silent. “Look, I'll be the first to tell you that this little crusade of yours is nuts, but I do know a little something about missing fathers,” he offers. He feels the need to say something to make Cas feel better. 

“What do you mean?” Castiel wants to know. 

“I mean every time I was looking for my dad when all logic said that he was dead, but I knew in my heart he was still alive. Who cares what some ninja turtle says, Cas, what do you believe?”

“I believe He's out there,” Castiel answers. His voice firm, but soft. 

“Good. Go find him.”

“What about you?” Castiel asks and Dean is lost for a moment there.

“What about me? I don't know. Honestly, I'm good. I can't believe I'm saying that, but I am, I'm really good.”

“Even without your brother?”

“Especially without my brother. I mean, I spent so much time worrying about the son of a bitch. I mean, I've had more fun with you in the past twenty-four hours than I've had with Sam in years, and you're not that much fun,” he says, giving Cas a look.  “It's funny, you know, I've been so chained to my family, but now that I'm alone, hell, I'm happy,” he adds and looks over again. He sighs, that son of a bitch, he thinks. He really needs to tell Cas to stop doing that disappearing on his ass thing without a fucking sound. He feels stupid talking to himself. 

~Interlude~  
Castiel's presence is always accompanied by the soft rustling of feathers no one can see. A shadow on the wall if you're lucky. Sometimes Dean thinks about how they would feel, wants to run his fingers around the edges and just find out. His fingers itch to touch the shadow, because maybe it feels different. Maybe it would tingle his skin in a way a normal shadow wouldn't. It's a mild obsession, he can admit it to himself, if not to anyone else. He can entertain these thoughts in the privacy of his head as long as he wants to, now that Castiel's mark is all over him. Over his skin and in his bones. He doesn't think about Castiel's hand on his skin too much, or too long. It makes him feel...it makes him _feel_. And that is not something he can afford now. Not that he ever could if he's honest with himself. He can understand why so many hunters hunt alone. Sure there is no one to have your back, but there is also no one that can be a hostage, be a weakness and Dean realises in the privacy of his head that he doesn't have just one weakness anymore. He has two and he doesn't know how or when it happened. Maybe around the time Castiel slit his palm and bled for him and Sam. It's as good an explanation as any other.

~8~  
So this is so freaking weird he has no words for it. The whole world went to hell and he is leading a group of survivors. Plus, he turned into a dick. Like seriously. Is he really such a dick? It's strange to be talking to yourself, even if it's not really you, he thinks. Because he is not a dick. He will not become one.    
Right, enough of that. He needs to find Cas, right the fuck now. And talk to him and...  

~+~  
 _Wow_ , he thinks upon entering the cabin. Wow, women and candles and has Castiel just said the word 'Orgy' because, what?

“What are you, a hippie?” he asks, after the girls have left.

“I thought you'd gotten over trying to label me,“ he answers, doing some yoga stretching shit. Dean can see his muscles shift where the shirt is too tight around his shoulders. It's kind of distracting.   

“Cas, we got to talk.”

“Whoa. Strange,” Castiel answers. 

“What?” Because, seriously? Everything here is strange. It's like living in the twilight zone or something. 

“You...are not you. Not now you, anyway.”

“No! Yeah. Yes, exactly,” he answers. 

“What year are you from?”

“2009.”

“Who did this to you? Is it Zachariah?” Castiel asks. They are still standing too close, they always seem to stand too close these days. 

“Yes.”

“Interesting,” Castiel says, finger running just under his lips. 

“Oh, yeah, it's friggin' fascinating. Now. Why don't you strap on your angel wings and fly me back to my page on the calendar?” He says and Castiel laughs.

“I wish I could just, uh, strap on my wings, but I'm sorry, no dice.” 

“What, are you stoned?” he wants to know, because it totally looks like that.

“Uh, generally, yeah,” Castiel answers, with a soft giggle. 

“What happened to you?”

“Life,” he answers.   

~+~  
This whole time is a nightmare come true. Hell on earth, with blood and torture. He really doesn't like his future self. But the worst thing is seeing Cas. Cas how he is now, how he will be in a few years. It's just wrong. He never thought he would think that, but he misses his own Castiel.

Riding shotgun is not that cool. He misses his car.    
“Let me see those,” he says after watching Cas take some pills.

“You want some?”

“Amphetamines?” he asks, holding the bottle up to read the label better. 

“It's the perfect antidote to that absinthe,” Castiel answers. 

“Mmm. Don't get me wrong, Cas. I, uh. I'm happy that the stick is out of your ass, but..what's going on... with the drugs and the orgies and the love-guru crap?” He wants to ask 'you, what is going on with you?'. Castiel looks at him and laughs. As if he maybe knew. “What's so funny?”

“Dean, I'm not an angel anymore,” he answers, eyes on he street again. 

“What?”

“Yeah, I went mortal,” he says, there is something in his voice Dean doesn't like. Not one bit. 

“What do you mean? How?”

“I think it had something to do with the other angels leaving. But when they bailed, my mojo just kind of...” he makes a hand gesture to describe it “psshhew...drained away. And now, you know, I'm practically human. I mean, Dean, I'm all but useless. Last year, broke my foot, laid up for two months.”

“Wow.” He has no words he can offer.

“Yeah.”

“So, you're human. Well, welcome to the club,” he says. 

“Thanks. Except I used to belong to a much better club. And now I'm powerless. I'm hapless, I'm hopeless. I mean, why the hell not bury myself in women and decadence, right? It's the end, baby. That's what decadence is for. Why not bang a few gongs before the lights go out? But then that's, that's just how I roll,” he answers with that stoned out of his mind laugh.  
Dean knows all about this. He does it. He drinks and buries himself in women to forget and to be able to sleep. And it's because he can't stand the emptiness and bitterness inside him and that's what scares him, because he can see that in Cas. The recklessness. Castiel doesn't care if he dies, he probably expects it to happen soon. Maybe prays for it to a god he doesn't believe in anymore. He looks away and out of the window.

~Interlude~  
There is a moment he really wants to kiss Cas. Right after he escapes Zachariah's clutches. He is so fucking grateful to see Cas, his Cas. The Cas with the stick in his ass. He settles for a manly shoulder squeeze and when he squeezes too hard, Castiel doesn’t know any different. He smiles and Cas smiles back and that's it. He lets go and calls Sam. When he hangs up on his brother Cas is still there, standing at the edge of the street. He wonders.

“So, you waited here the whole time?” he asks.

“Yes,” Castiel answers.

“Couldn't you find another place, a nicer place to hang out than a godforsaken street in the middle of nowhere? In the middle of the night?” Dean asks.

“Where would I go?” Castiel answers and Dean doesn't have an answer to that. He doesn't know where Cas is when he isn't with Dean, or looking for god. He shrugs.

“Let's go back, I need my car...” he answers and waits for Castiel's touch.    

~9~  
This is messed up, he thinks and is well aware that he thinks this way too often. Cas is a cold hearted bastard, but Dean already knew that. Dean has no illusions left about angels. Killing a nine year old boy just because he might be the Antichrist or something. Jesse is just a kid and he can still make the right decisions if you give him a chance. And Dean wishes, and he knows that Sam wishes that as well, that they had someone to help them choose the right path, help them...he doesn't know. He doesn't want to think about it.

  
~10~  
He doesn't have to justify anything. Okay? It's normal to have a boy-crush. Everyone seems to have one these days. It's called 'bromance' and there is nothing gay about it. Just take Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto for example! Or Jude Law and Robert Downey Jr. He is not alone. Besides this show is entertaining and it's good and...whatever. Sam can just shut his cake-hole. There is nothing he needs to fucking justify.  
The moment Cas is zapped away (and why is the 'pretty boy angel' comment haunting him) he is worried. He is worried for that tough son of a bitch. Cas has grown on him and it's another one of these things he doesn't want to think about too closely.  

  
~11~  
“Hello, Dean...” Cas says, Dean turns around to face him. He's not too surprised that Cas found him. After all, he tries to let him know where they're staying, what with the whole Trickster disaster. Cas keeps his distance. Not much of it, but for Cas he does. Dean nearly smiles. Cas is trying. And Dean knows it's for his sake ( _'I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you, and you failed'_ ). 

“Look what the cat dragged in...” he answers and Castiel looks puzzled again. Dean likes that expression on his face (maybe that's why he comes up with all these references in the first place). He looks like a kid that still has things to learn, still has innocence to lose. Not that he thinks Cas has much innocence left. He's a soldier, he has killed, enemies and brothers. Made tough decisions.

“I wasn't dragged in...” Cas tries and Dean silences him with a wave of his hand.

“Just an expression. Doesn't matter,” he answers.

“I think I'm getting better at them,” Castiel answers. He's still just standing there, a few steps away from Dean.  

“You are,” he answers.

“Where's Sam?”

“Washing our clothes, it's his turn. He'll come back with food in a few...” he shrugs. He doesn't know when, maybe in half an hour, maybe a bit more.

“Oh...”

“Why you're here, Cas?” Dean asks, leaning heavily against the door frame that separates the small rooms. The sun is setting behind Cas over a grey parking lot. Cas' face glows in profile.

“I...” he turns to look at Dean, “I didn't want to wait beside a dark street in the middle of the night,” he answers. Dean nods. This is Cas’ better place to hang out. Dean doesn't know if he finds it endearing or kind of sad. A bit of both, he supposes.

“Wanna get drunk?”

“I can't get drunk, Dean,” Cas answers, something like a smile curving his lips.

“It's okay. Just drink?”

“Yeah,” he says, unfurling and stepping closer to sit down at the small table in the kitchen area. Dean takes out a bottle (he has too many of them) and pours them a drink. He wonders if Cas will watch him sleep once he is out. He doesn't ask. 

~Interlude~   
“My mom used to tell me when I was a kid that angels are watching over me,” he says and he is really, really, fucking drunk and he has no idea where Sam is right now. Maybe still doing their laundry, it's not that important right now. “It's true, isn't it?” he asks Cas.

“That angels are watching over you?”

“Yes.”

“No, they are not. No one can find you,” Castiel answers.

“You can,” he says.

“Because you let me know where you are,” Castiel looks out of the window again. It's dark outside already.

“Are you still watching me sleep?” Dean asks, looking at Cas' profile. Cas turns to face him again.

“Yes,” he answers.

“So, angels are watching over me...”

“No,” Castiel answers.

“You just said you watch me sleep sometimes,” he protests.

“Yes. I. Singular. It's just me, Dean,” Castiel answers and Dean nods, because he can't argue with that.

 

 

 _III.Körperwelten_  

~1~  
Castiel is not unfamiliar with sex, so he is not shocked to see two men kiss. Well, a demon in a man's body and another man. Still, there is something funny about it, not in a laughable way, more in a stomach twisting and uncurling way that he doesn't want to think about. It doesn't make things exactly easy being on the phone with Dean while he watches the two men kiss.

“The demon Crowley is making a deal; as we speak, it's...going down,” he says, he isn't sure this is how you say these things, but in the TV shows about detectives and cops he sometimes watches (just to be able to catch Dean's references better) it seems to be a common phrase.

“Going down? Right. Okay, Huggy Bear, just don't lose him,” Dean answers on the other side of the phone. His voice sounds amused, Castiel thinks, maybe he's happy they found Crowley. This is good news, after all. They need the Colt to kill Lucifer.

“I won't lose him,” he answers and hangs up on Dean.  
There is something warm in his chest every time Dean says something nice to him and he doesn't know what to do with it. He wants to be of more help, but the runes are preventing him from dealing with the demon on his own.

~+~  
Making deals with demons is apparently the new family business here. His dad, his mom, he himself and Sam, but that was more of an addiction than a deal. Now Crowley. He doesn't even want to give this son of a bitch three seconds of his time, but he has the Colt and he wants to hand it over, so they can kill the devil. Which, yeah, they want to kill the devil. Seems like everyone is wanting Dean to kill the devil these days. The angels and now the fucking demons. _Man, my life_ , he thinks.  

~+~  
There are things he doesn't like to think about, like why he tried to have sex with Jo. They are friends. She's a smart girl; she knows him better than that, he knows _her_ better that that.  
Another thing that he doesn’t want to think about is that they might die the next day and the world will go to hell. But maybe the world deserves it, just a little bit, for being how it is.  
And then there is the whole Cas issue.  

~+~  
He still has no idea, not a real one anyway, why he rebelled against Heaven (not against God) and chose the human side (Dean's side), but it's done now and if he dies today then that's how it should be. He watches the women leave the car and looks around. _This is not good_ , he thinks.  
“Ever heard of a door handle?” Jo asks. 

“Of course I have,” he answers. He feels irritated with her for no reason other than maybe that Dean was hitting on her. 

“What is it, Cas?” Ellen asks.

“This town's not empty.” There is silence so he adds: “Reapers.” 

“Reapers? As in more than one?” 

“They only gather like this at times of great catastrophe. Chicago Fire, San Francisco Quake, Pompeii. Excuse me, I need to find out why they're here,” he answers and leaves them. They can take care of themselves. He is sure of that.  
Something about this one reaper seems different, so the course of action is to follow him.  
There is no whisper of wings, it's so much louder, so much more worse than he thought. There is all the light and he is still beautiful. An avenging angel, the beautiful one, the fallen one and he calls Castiel brother. He's trapped and he thinks Dean would call him stupid for this and he really is. He was stupid to follow a reaper and get trapped in a ring of fire. He should have known better.

“Lucifer.” The word is not foreign on his tongue, it rolls smoothly, like it did all those thousands of years before.

“So I take it you're here with the Winchesters.” 

“I came alone,” he lies. Angels are not above lying.

“Loyalty. Such a nice quality to see in this day and age. Castiel, right? Castiel. I'm told you came here in an automobile,” Lucifer says. His finger hovering over the flames.  

“Yes.” 

“What was that like?” 

“Um. Slow. Confining,” he answers, because that is what he was feeling. That's how it feels to him, but humans can't...well, teleport would be that word here. So he is traveling like they are.  

“What a peculiar thing you are,” he says and he looks like the big brother he once was. Castiel remembers him. He thinks every angel remembers him. This vessel doesn't do him justice; it's deteriorating and bursting at the seams.  
“What's wrong with your vessel?” 

“Yes. Um. Nick is wearing a bit thin, I'm afraid. He can't contain me forever, so...” he says and Castiel interrupts him, taking a step closer to Lucifer, to the flames.  

“You...” he says, stopping short, “You are not taking Sam Winchester. I won't let you.” 

“Castiel. I don't understand why you're fighting me, of all the angels.” 

“You really have to ask?” 

“I rebelled, I was cast out. You rebelled, you were cast out. Almost all of heaven wants to see me dead, and if they succeed, guess what? You're their new public enemy number one. We're on the same side, like it or not, so why not just serve your own best interests? Which, in this case, just happen to be mine?” Lucifer asks. It sounds good, except his loyalties are lying elsewhere these days...with someone else.  

“I'll die first,” he answers.  

“I suppose you will,” Lucifer says. The flames keeping him prisoner, he is doomed to watch and listen to all this crap. Dean would've been so pissed off in his place.  
He just needs a bit more time, just a bit more time to get out of here. Time he doesn't really have, because Lucifer is going to raise Death. And he is here with this little demon. But maybe this is his way out. He is not powerless.  

“You seem pleased,” he says just to distract her. 

“We're gonna win. Can you feel it? You cloud-hopping pansies lost the whole damn universe. Lucifer's gonna take over heaven. We're going to heaven, Clarence,” she answers. There is a laugh in her voice. 

“Strange, because I heard a different theory from a demon named Crowley.” 

“You don't know Crowley,” she says, but he thinks she doesn't sound that sure.  

“He believes Lucifer is just using demons to achieve an end, and that, once he does, he'll destroy you all.” 

“You're wrong. Lucifer is the father of our race. Our creator. Your god may be a deadbeat. Mine...mine walks the earth,” she answers. She is distracted and doesn't see what he's doing behind her back. Literally. It's a bit fascinating.    
When the pipe slams into her, he puts his palm on to her forehead. It's something he always did, but it doesn't work. _Damn_ , he thinks. She laughs in his arms, he can feel her slender body, feels the warmth seeping through their clothes.   
“You can't gank demons, can you? You're cut off from the home office and you ain't got the juice. So what can you do, you impotent sap?” she asks, leaning into his space. He is tempted for just a second to lean in, to kiss her, but she is evil and she is not...human.  

“I can do this,” he answers, throwing her across the fire and escaping. He needs to find Lucifer and the Winchester boys.

~2~  
Burning the photograph is like burning the memories from their minds. They didn't have the time or opportunity to bury them (not that there were any bodies left) or give them a hunter's funeral. There will be a stone with an empty coffin maybe in the near future. Bobby doesn't say a word and he can't say anything either. He didn't see Ellen or Jo in the future and maybe that was a big fucking hint right there, but he didn't get it and now it's too late. He feels like this is his fault. Well, all of this _is_ his fault. He is cursed to the bone.  
He leaves the house to get quietly drunk in the yard between the empty shells of cars.  
He doesn't know how long he's out there before he hears the soft rustling of wings.

“Dean...” Cas says and just stands there as Dean looks up. Who else, Dean thinks. Who else would be here when he wants to drown in his misery or in Jack Daniels.

“Cas,” Dean nods.

“I'm sorry for your loss.”  
He laughs; he can't help it. Castiel sounds so fucking sincere. Castiel always sounds fucking sincere. It doesn't mean anything.

“Thanks,” he says, taking a sip of his nearly empty bottle. “Sit down and...” he trails off. He doesn't know what he wants Cas to do now. He takes another swig. Castiel sits down and stares ahead. “So, what happened to you back there?” Dean wants to know, this is a safe topic.

“I got trapped by Lucifer. We had a chat, I think you would say, and then he left me there with Meg,” Castiel says and Dean turns his head to look at him. Cas sits there like a statue, like something made of marble and just painted to look like a human being.

“And? How did you get out?”

“I manipulated a pipe screw, she got hit, and when I went to exorcise her it didn't work. I think she wanted to kiss me?” It sounds a bit like a question. Dean doesn't like that a demon bitch is trying to get into Cas pants, bad enough his brother had sex ( _need to scrub my brain, need to scrub my brain_ , he chants in his head) with that Ruby bitch.

“You didn't, right?”

“I threw her onto the ring of fire and walked over her back and out to save you,” Castiel answers.

“Were you tempted?” Dean wants to know. He doesn't know why he asked. After all, it's not his business. Besides Cas is an angel. He wouldn’t screw that kind of thing up.

“She isn't even human,” Cas answers and Dean knows that it's not a real answer, but he lets it slide. He has lost too much today.  

~+~  
He doesn't know why he seeks Dean out, maybe because Dean is in pain, even if he doesn't admit it. It doesn't matter, Castiel might not know a lot of things, but he does know about Dean's behaviour in certain situations. In this case, he will be out alone and drinking too much. He is just concerned. It's strange that he even cares, but the truth is that he cared from the start. He cared about Dean. He doesn't think it will change any time soon.

“She isn't even human,” is not a lie. She isn't human. Maybe the shell that demon is possessing is, but the demon is not. Maybe he was tempted, but it was not by the demon, it was by the warm body in his arms. He supposes it's simple curiosity.

“No, she’s not. She’s an evil demon bitch,” Dean says. His words sharp like daggers.

“I wish I could've exorcised her,” Castiel answers.

Dean nods. “You lost your mojo then?” 

“It seems so, there are things I can't do anymore. I wonder if I'm still fit to...” he shrugs.

“You can still zap around the whole planet and take us with you,” Dean says, scooting a bit closer. Castiel can feel his body heat. It feels nice in the cold of the night. “Want a drink?”

“I can't get drunk,” he says.

“I know, you said it before. That wasn't the question,” Dean answers with a small smile. Castiel can hear it in his voice.

“Yes,” he says. Their fingers brush as Dean hands the bottle over. He takes a sip and hands it back over to Dean.

“You need to wipe it clean...” he says. Castiel gives him a look. “Learned that one from the Siren.”

“Oh, next time then?” Castiel asks.

“Yeah,” Dean answers and then they fall silent again. The night is cloudless and full of stars and Castiel really wants to save this planet, not only because God created it and it's beautiful, but because Dean loves it. And he...well, maybe he has come to love it a bit as well.   
   
   
~Interlude~  
Castiel watches Dean sleep sometimes, when he has the time and has nowhere else to be, or when he's frustrated with his fruitless search for God. He watches Dean's face, not even relaxed in his sleep. Watches his hands, fingers clenching around something that could be the Colt, could be a knife. Always ready to strike, to kill. Watches his body shift under the covers. Watches the muscles work under his skin. Sometimes he wants to feel the warmth and to touch the raised skin (scar) he left on Dean's arm. Newborn with just the one mark. Pristine skin, healed. His. His mark.  
He just stands there and watches Dean sleep and doesn't try to think about why his better place to linger, loiter around, is where Dean is.   
   
~+~  
Dean sometimes wonders if angels were created like people - with genders. In terms of woman and man and if they choose their vessels accordingly. The angels in the books always look perfect, like girls or really, really pretty boys. Androgenous. Nothing like the ones he's seen on earth, except Anna maybe, but she isn't blond either.  
Maybe they are, maybe they aren't and maybe they don't even care about it. Castiel didn't seem particularly concerned when he was stuck in the body of a little girl. Dean was; he found it really fucking creepy. He doesn't think he could've taken Cas seriously in that body.  
Since Lilith, blond little girls creep him the fuck out. He just can't help it. But if angels are not created like men, in terms of gender, does that make them genderless? Or does this make them whatever they want to be? Must be fucking wonderful to be who you want to be.  
If Castiel had Anna's vessel Dean is sure they would've been fucking by now. Just so Castiel wouldn't die a virgin... Wait, he thinks, fucking wait! Where the fuck did that thought come from?  
He needs to get laid. Soon.

   
~3~  
He is wearing a hospital gown and a blue bathrobe. He feels naked without a knife or gun, or any kind of weapon. Sam has been giving him the 'We need to talk' look since the whole thing with Jo and Ellen happened. He is fine. He is fucking peachy. They are hunters and hunters die terrible, painful, horrible deaths. He died once, Sam died once, Ellen and Jo were lucky. He doesn't think they felt much before...he isn't going there right now. 

~+~  
She looks familiar, but he can't put his finger on it right now. He also doesn't like the questions she's asking. He gets that it's her job, but he doesn't like it. Doesn't like that she makes him face how much he doesn't sleep, how much he drinks, that he has had no serious relationships, except the one to his brother and that one is so full of fucking holes, he doesn't want to face that either. And then there is Cas.

“The angel?” she asks.

“Yeah, the angel.”

“You have an angel that's called Cas?”

“His name's Castiel,” Dean answers.

“What's your relationship?”

“We are hunting Lucifer, he is looking for god.” He shrugs.

“And?” she asks, he doesn't like how she looks at him.

“And what?”

“Is there something else?”

“We're friends, I guess.” He admits, not looking at her. He doesn't like to think about Cas that much. She keeps silent. “It's complicated. He is the only angel that isn't a complete dick about everything... Sometimes he almost seems human” Dean answers.

“You like him,” she says.  
He shrugs. Might be true. They are friends after all and Cas seems to be the only other constant in his life.  

~+~  
So, that's how it feels when you're going insane. It's a slow slide into the pits of your own personal hell.  
Seeing things, facing things you bury deep inside you. Surfacing to taunt you, to haunt you like restless ghosts and you can't do anything about it, except face it or give in. He is so fucking tempted to just give in.  
But he knows he can't, people are depending on him, people that don't even know that they are. He needs to save the world, stop the apocalypse.  

~+~  
He isn't the only one with issues here; he knows that. But he can't deal with Sam's guilt on top with his own issues. His own shit. Part of Dean knows that this is what led them here. The not speaking, the burying things deep down and trying so desperately to move on, to hunt, to not think, to just be in the moment and try and save other people's lives.  
He wonders if they can save their own.

~4~  
“This is what you dream about,” she says.

“This is awkward. Why are you gate-crashing my head? Why don't you just swing by the motel?“

“I can't find you,” she answers, sitting down next to him.

“Oh. Cas did this thing,” he says, stroking his rips, marked by an angel...it really isn't as cool as you might think.

“Cas. Right. Now, there's a friend you can count on.” She sounds bitter.

“What?”

“He didn't tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Where I've been. Of course not. Why would he?” It's a rhetorical question, he knows them, Sam uses them all the fucking time, it used to annoy him more.

“Where have you been?”

“Prison. Upstairs. All the torture, twice the self-righteousness.”

“Why wouldn't he have told us where you were?” he wants to know. 

“Because he's the one who turned me in. Don't look so shocked. He was always a good little soldier. Did anything under orders.”

“I didn't know. Are you okay?” It's kind of a stupid question, she really doesn't look like she's okay.

“No. And I don't have long. I broke out, barely. They're looking for me. If they find me…”

“Okay. What do you need?” 

“Meet me. Two-two-five Industrial. And, please, just hurry,” she says and he wakes up.  
Seriously, angels need to stop popping into his dreams. That shit is just not cool.   

~+~  
He knows her, knows how she works. He also knows Heaven and knows how they work. If she's here it must be a trap. He was...he knows how they work, he knows all about Heaven’s persuasion.  
He's sorry that he told them where she was, he's sorry they took her, he's sorry he was such a coward.  
He thinks he deserves her wrath.    
“Sam Winchester has to die,” she says and after a pause: “I am sorry but we have no choice, he's Lucifer's vessel.”

“He's not the only one,” he answers, it's true, but it's such a lie. 

“What, Nick? He's burning away as we speak. No. Sam is the only vessel that matters. You know what that means? If Lucifer can’t take Sam, his whole plan short circuits. No fight with Michael, no Croatoan Virus, The Horsemen go back to their day jobs.”

“Even if you could kill Sam, Satan would just bring him back to life.”

“Not after I scatter his cells across the universe,” she says. He can't look at her. He can't. He knows she's right. Part of him knows that, he is sure part of Dean knows that as well.  “They'll never find him. Not all of him.”

“We'll find another way.”

“How's that going? How's the Colt working out? Or the search for God? Is anything working? If you want to stop the Devil, this is how,” she answers. There is steel in her voice, determination. 

“The answer's still no... because Sam is my friend,” he says and more important Dean is Sam's brother. He can't, he doesn't want to bring more pain than he already had. Not to Dean who is trying so fucking hard. 

“You've changed,” she answers, sounding surprised. 

“Maybe too late, but I have.” He looks at her, so she knows he means serious business. “And I know we've been through much together, but you come near Sam Winchester and I'll kill you.”  

~+~  
The things he does for Dean, all these stupid things: he's seen how this ends, how all these sacrifices end, Sam, Jon, Mary and they all did it for someone they loved and he is doing all these things for Dean. He lied to Sam. Of course it would change things if he was never born. But maybe he did it for himself. Things would be different. He would've never met Dean. Dean wouldn't know he exists at all.  
It's not the first time he wonders about all this, it's not the first time he bleeds for Dean, he muses as he's staring at the ceiling of the hotel Dean has dumped him at. He feels tired and weakened. He knew it would be like this. He knew.  

~+~  
It's somehow unbelievable how cursed they are. He was back in time twice now and couldn't stop it from happening. Also, Michael is a total dick as well, maybe a bit nicer than the others, but even the Trickster is more fun than Michael. Damn, even Castiel passed out on his hotel bed is more fun than Michael.  
Cas with his bloody lips and that stupid trench coat and stupid hair and blue eyes...fuck. 

~Interlude~  
“So, Cas...” Dean says, he feels tired and burned out. He slept only three hours before he was woken up, not by Cas, by something else. Something he doesn't want to talk about or think about for that matter.

“You used to use that to degrade me...” Castiel says, sitting down on the bed. Leaving miles and miles of space and air between them. Crumpled sheets like a dirty white desert. 

“What?” he asks, because he is still too groggy, not enough sleep, too much booze, too much fucking thinking. He knows he needs to stop doing that, but... There is always a ‘but’ nowadays.

“This pet name,” he answers and Dean laughs.

“Is it that?” he asks.

“Is it not?” Cas wants to know, he looks puzzled for a moment, like maybe he got it wrong after all. It still happens from time to time.

“I guess,” Dean admits, closing his eyes. It says so much that he can do that, that he feels safe enough to close his eyes here with Cas, without Sam to have his back. He doesn't like to think too hard about that either.

“You used to mock me with it...” Cas says and stops.

“Yeah.”

“Not anymore.” And it's not a question.

“No, not anymore,” Dean says. He feels Cas nod, and still doesn't open his eyes. Everything feels more vivid when he's in the dark. He feels more alert, more alive and it's really kind of messed up to feel that way.

“What does it mean now?” Castiel asks.  
Dean leans against the headboard; it feels hard and solid at the back of his skull. _A lot_ , he thinks, _too much and I can't tell you, can't word it, don't even want to think it in my head_.

“That I don't think you're a bastard anymore...” he answers out loud and feels Castiel laugh. Silently shaking the bed and covers, sheets, vibrations like tiny waves. He opens his eyes and smiles in return. Shifts, turns to look at Castiel. The room is dark, only illuminated by a street-light outside the window. It paints shadows on Castiel's skin. Makes him look softer and sharper at the same time. Makes his eyes glow in a strange way Dean can't explain. “Want to stay here?” he asks.

“It smells wrong...” Castiel says. Dean knows what it is: sex. He was with this girl, that's why Sam has his own room, that's why he doesn't need to whisper here with Cas, now. The sheets still smell faintly of sweat and her cheap perfume.

“Lingering scent of women and sex,” Dean answers, not looking away from Castiel's face.

“I shouldn't,” he answers.

“That wasn't the question,” he whispers. He feels strange and doesn't know, honestly doesn't know, what he's trying to do here. 

“I don't sleep,” Castiel says, his eyes shifting to look at Dean.

“You can watch me...” his voice drops, maybe he's still drunk.

“Sleep?”

“Yeah...” he says, inching a bit closer, his fingers nearly brushing Castiel's on the sheets.

“What are you trying to do?”

“Make you stay.”

“I'll stay,” Castiel answers as Dean's fingers brush his. 

“Okay...”     

  
~5~  
Just because he is not fucking everything that moves, doesn't mean that something is wrong with him. Okay? What the hell is Sam talking about anyway? They have a job to do here, he thinks as he takes out his phone to call Cas. They need his help on this one if an angel is involved in all of this.  

~+~  
'Meet me in the back', Dean thinks, would totally be a come on if said by any other...being in creation. It's not when Cas says it, which is a bit disappointing, but just a bit. They still have a job to do here.  
Their job sucks. And Cupid is a dick, like all of the other angels. Why should he be different?

“Are we gonna talk what's been up with you lately or not?” Sam asks.

He risks a glance at Castiel. Fuck all these...feelings. “Or not!” he snaps and leaves.  

~+~  
There is nothing human in this diner anymore, he thinks, looking around. All that was once human has died.  
He feels hollow.   

~+~  
He can't stand his brother's screams and Cas' presence in that basement. He needs to be so much more drunk for this, so much more drunk.  

~+~  
He is drunk when it happens. Maybe it happens because he's drunk, maybe he is drunk because he wanted it to happen.  
Castiel's eyes are huge and impossibly blue in the dim light, too bright to be human eyes, maybe a bit scared as well. Dean is scared and freaking out. In the back of his head the little voice that might be sanity is screaming at him to just let it be, to stop. He shuts it out, puts it in a cage and lets it rattle against the bars.

“What are you doing?” Cas asks, his breath ghosting over Dean's lips. Dean would like to say he doesn't know, but he does know. He knows what he is doing, knows how to do it, and he know he's good at it. Hundreds of women can't be wrong.

“You know what I'm doing,” he answers and doesn't give Cas time to formulate a response. He just closes the space between their lips. Castiel's lips are chapped and they don't taste of anything. He grabs Castiel's head to right the angle. It's clear as day that Castiel hasn’t done anything like this before. He is unsure and lets Dean lead, and Dean is good at working with blushing virgins.  
Dean pushes his tongue between Castiel's lips and begins to explore his mouth. A soft noise escapes Castiel's mouth, swallowed by Dean. Something inside Dean cheers and is thrilled. Thrilled and alive for the first time in months, hell, maybe years. Cas grabs his jacket and Dean lets him, lets him grab whatever he needs for support.  

~+~  
Dean's fingers are strong and sure at the back of his neck, massaging the skin there. His lips are soft and his mouth tastes like whisky. He's drunk, but he knows what he's doing. Castiel has no one to compare to, but he just knows this, because he knows Dean. Knows his dreams and knows his soul. He grabs Dean's jacket and lets Dean take the lead, lets Dean shift closer. The only places their skin is touching is their lips and Dean's fingers on his neck, his hand on Castiel's jaw.  Hot points of living skin and flesh and blood. Burning down to his core. He is surprised as he kisses back, he knows Dean is as well.  
He can feel something shift between them, can feel Dean's stubble against his skin, can feel so much, everything and anything and it seems like there is too much room between them. He pulls on Dean's jacket, pulls him closer so their chests are touching. He hears Dean make a surprised sound. He knows Dean sometimes forgets that Castiel is stronger, that he isn't human. He bites Castiel's lip and Castiel gasps. All these new sensations flowing in his system. Part of him, part of him that isn't him, but was once Jimmy, knows what to do with all this. Pulling closer, kissing harder, breathing.

“Dean...” he moans and it sounds desperate in his own ears. Dean runs his tongue over his jaw and down to his neck, the hollow where it meets his shoulder, pushing his shirt aside, nearly ripping it.

“Need to get this off...” Dean mumbles against his skin, making him shiver.

“Not here,” Castiel says and Dean stops licking over the bite he just left on Castiel's skin to look at him.

“Hmmm?”

“Not here,” he repeats. Here is not a good idea, they are just a few feet away from Bobby's. This yard a god-damned cemetery for cars and Sam is going through hell in the basement. This is really not a good place.

“Can't keep this in the privacy of my head anymore...” Dean says.  

~+~  
God, he thinks. God. Why did he say that? Why did he tell Castiel that he was dreaming about this, about him? That he fantasised about it. About Castiel's lips, his hands, fingers on his dick. How he would look? He must be more drunk than he thought.

“It's not safe here,” Castiel says, ignoring Dean's words.

“It's never safe, anywhere. We are literally at the end of the world here. These are our last days.”

“Is this why you're doing this?” he asks, his breath ghosting over Dean's skin.

“Fuck you!” Dean spits. He feels angry and helpless. He can't change any of this and maybe it's fucking wrong and maybe he is in no position to judge what the hell he is doing here, but damn if he's ever done something just because it was easy. He and Sam they always do stupid and reckless things, but not because it’s the easy way out. Never. So fuck Castiel for this. Fuck him. “Fuck you,” he says again, but his fingers tighten on Castiel's shoulder where his hand has slipped.

“Dean.”  
And Dean looks up again, from the button he was staring at, to Castiel's face. He looks pained and aroused and glowing, beautiful in the way Anna did as he fucked her in the back of his car. He doesn't think he can fuck Castiel in the back of his car, he doesn't think he wants to. The voice he calls sanity is quietly freaking out at the thought of fucking another man. He ignores it.

“No, I don't...that is not why I'm doing this.”

“So why?”

“Why the hell do you always need reasons and explanations?” he demands. He wants to either hurt something or get laid, really badly and then just pass out and sleep for more than three hours.

“That's how I am...” Castiel answers and then says, “You didn't want me to change.”  
No, Dean thinks, no I didn't. I still don't want you to. “Yeah...” 

~+~  
It's just a whisper against his skin before Dean attacks his lips again and he doesn't ask any more questions. Everything has an edge of desperation to it, but with Dean things are often like that. Dean's hips thrust against his and he can't keep the gasp in. Dean swallows this one as well, and the next and the moans that follow as they move against each other.  
Dean bites his lip when he comes and burrows his face in Castiel's neck. There is something inside Castiel that has been building from the very first second Dean's lips touched his. It's stronger now and more vicious coiling in his guts and between his legs.

“Come one, come on...” Dean whispers, licking over his pulse point, his hand (that one that isn't gripping his shoulder too hard) is stroking at the front of his jeans. It's a strange, powerful feeling. His breath, his voice, his hand, his tongue and lips and then Castiel is biting his own lip to keep the sound in that wants to escape his mouth from deep inside him.

“Yeah...” Dean whispers into his ear. His voice sounds wrecked. Castiel leans his head against the cool wet metal of a car. His eyes closed and tries to catch his breath, his hand still in Dean's jacket. He can feel the sweat cooling at the small of his back and between his shoulder blades, making his clothes sticky and uncomfortable. Dean's hand is still resting between his legs and his breath is too loud in Castiel's ears. 

~+~  
He doesn't know what to do, that's why he's still clinging to Castiel. He doesn't want to let go, but they can't go back inside either.

“You should shower,” Castiel says, his fingers slipping from Dean's jacket slowly.

“You telling me I smell?” he gives back.

“Yes...of my lingering scent and sex...” Castiel says and Dean laughs. Fuck.  
Fuck his life. Seriously.

“You should too,” he answers, letting go.

“I don't need to...I can do this,” he says and he doesn't quite snap with his fingers, but he's instantly clean nevertheless. Hmm, he thinks that's how they do it.

“Neat trick,” Dean answers, stepping away.

“It is. Good night, Dean,” Castiel says and vanishes.  
Bastard, Dean thinks fondly, shaking his head. Not a good idea. Everything is spinning, he steadies himself against the car where Cas was a few second ago. He can still feel the lingering warmth there.  
This was so fucking stupid. What was he thinking?

~6~  
He doesn't know anything about love, she's right. He hasn’t loved anyone, except maybe Cassie, and she dumped his ass twice. So, yeah, he doesn't love anyone. Correction he doesn't fall in love with strangers. The only people that mean something are his family and Bobby (plus Jo and Ellen) and now Cas. His head hurts just thinking about it, about what he did. Fuck.

“So, what the hell is wrong?” Sam wants to know.

“What? Did you see the zombies walking around?” he gives back.

“Yeah, funny, Dean. Why isn't Cas here? This is a sign of the apocalypse. Shouldn't he be here to do something?”

“He is out looking for god,” Dean answers, leaning on the counter, waving his fork. Hell this woman can bake. Cherry pie is one of his favourites.

“I know that he is looking for god, Dean, but he usually shows up when we call...when you call,” Sam says. Irritation creeps into his voice.

“I didn't call him, haven't spoken to him since the whole Valentine's disaster,” he replies, taking another bite.

“Maybe you should call him.”

“We can handle this on our own. Zombies aren't exactly hard to kill, it's not fucking heart surgery. Shot to the head and you're done. We don't need his help on this one,” he answers.

“Fine!” Sam says and leaves the kitchen. He is sure Sam would've banged it really hard on his way out if he could.  
He can't call Cas, he wouldn't know what to say to him. How to explain what he did.  

~+~  
“You should have called,” Castiel says. Dean knew he would come here sooner or later.

“Sam called you?” he asks. It's not a real question, since he knows the answer, but hey.

“Yes.”

Dean closes his eyes and counts to three before he turns around to face Cas. They are just inches apart. “Cas, we talked about this? Personal space?”

“Right, my apologies.” He takes a few steps back. “So, Death raised the dead?”

“Yes, he fucking did and he did it to send a message,” Dean answers.

“For you?”

“Who else? They want us isolated, they want us alone...they want us to-”

“They want you to say yes,” Castiel interrupts.

“Yeah, they want that.” He's just so tired of all this. So fucking tired and maybe that will be the reason he says yes in the end.

“Will Bobby be okay?”

“I don't know. She was his wife and he loved her and has had to kill her twice. Would you be okay?” He asks and knows he wouldn't be, he couldn't do this all over again. Or maybe...but it's futile because he hasn’t loved anyone enough for this to matter.

“I suppose not,” Castiel answers. He looks up and into the sky. It's grey and cloudy and he thinks it's going to rain soon.

~7~  
“Okay, what the hell is wrong with you?!” Sam asks, wearing his bitchface.

“I have honestly no idea what you're talking about...” Dean counters.

“First you don't fuck anyone on Valentine's day...” he says and wow, Dean thinks, Sam couldn't be farther from the truth if he tried. “And now you’re sleeping with anything that has a...that has breasts,” he catches himself.

“The world is about to end.”

“Don't give me that crap! First it was you dying, then it was you coping with my addiction, now it's the end of the world...what the hell, Dean?”

“Don't you see? That's how our lives will always be...meaningless fucks between world-saving missions and monsters.” He feels tired all of a sudden and that blond girl with the short red skirt doesn't seem too appealing anymore.

“This is...” Sam begins.  

“Forget it,” Dean answers and leaves the bar. Outside the night is cold and it looks like rain.

“Hey, stranger...” a girl says and he looks in her direction.

“Yeah?”

“Have a light?”

“You bet,” he answers and she laughs.   
He takes her back to his motel room and fucks her slow and steady, trying to block out Castiel's face as Dean kissed him the first time. This is him freaking out and not dealing, and he knows it.  

~+~  
Castiel waits outside. He was tempted to just let Dean know he was there, but Dean seemed busy with that woman. Something inside Castiel clenches. He remembers Dean's lips on his, his hands, his stubble against his skin. The noises he made, the noises Dean made. He remembers everything in vivid detail.  
It wasn't what Dean is doing now in that room with that woman. Castiel has no idea how that might feel or if that is something Dean really wants. So he just waits outside the room until her breathing goes back to normal.    
Dean drives her home and Castiel is still there when he comes back.  

~+~  
“Were you here the whole time?” he asks as he lets them in. Castiel nods. “Were you watching?” he wants to know, something inside him screaming.

“No. I was listening.”

“Listening?” Dean asks and doesn't know why heat pools inside his stomach at that thought.

“Yes, so I knew when you were...when you finished,” Castiel answers. 

Dean nods. Makes perfect sense if you are Castiel. “Why are you here?”

“Sam called me,” Castiel replies. He is keeping his distance and Dean isn't sure if he is glad or pissed off. He is definitely pissed off at Sam.

“Why the fuck would he do that?”

“I think he is worried,” Castiel answers, his voice perfectly devoid of emotion.

“He should be worried about the fucking apocalypse,” Dean answers, running his hand through his damp hair. It's raining outside.

“He said he is worried about you.”

“Yeah, well, he shouldn't be. What the hell? He should be worried about the big things. That we lost Anna, that you are still looking for god and that the fucking angels are playing games, The Four Horsemen, and that the end is near. So fucking close I can taste it!” he says, turning to face Cas. He is angry, angry all the fucking time now. At god, at Sam, at Castiel, the angels, the demons and himself. He feels like he is losing his grip on the world, on the things that matter. Losing faith maybe.

“Dean...” Castiel says.

“Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it!”

“God can help us. I'm sure it was him who brought me back, who rescued you, it was Him.”  
Dean would like to believe this, but he knows better. He knows god and god is not on their side. If anything, god is on his own side. He turns away, frustrated by all this fucking faith Castiel still has in god. By all this optimism. He just can't share it, but he keeps his mouth shut. Castiel needs that and he can't prove him wrong. So he doesn't try.

“Are you going to stay?” he asks after a few minutes of heavy silence.  

“Are you going to drink?” Castiel wants to know.

“Hell, yes.”

“Yes,” Castiel answers, sitting down on the bed. Dean pours them whisky and hands Castiel a glass. Their fingers brush for a brief moment. He didn't mean it to happen. He takes a step back. This is something he isn't going to do again. He isn't. It was madness the first time and it would be madness this time. Castiel is the only friend Dean has left, the only one who can help them stop the apocalypse. He leans on the small cabinet opposite of the bed and gulps the drink down, then pours another.  

~+~  
Dean's passed out on the bed beside him. His chest moving with his breathing, slow and measured. He's asleep and Castiel is watching him, like he has all these years, like he still does from time to time. Usually when Dean's passed out on the bed. Castiel can feel the warmth his body is radiating. His hands twitch with the need to touch, to know...something more. He doesn't. Dean didn't talk about it and he doesn't know how to talk about it. He isn't sure what it was, what it meant, if it even meant anything at all. Chances are good it didn't. Not to Dean. He was, after all, with a girl just a few hours ago. He is often with a girl for a few hours and then never sees her again. He can't cast Castiel aside, because he needs him. They need each other. Maybe. He doesn't know why he needs Dean. The only thing he knows is that he does. Dean turns around and his face burrows into Castiel's thigh. His breath hot against Castiel's skin. He closes his eyes and counts to ten. There is this burning deep down in his stomach. Something he didn't know until he met Dean, until Dean kissed him at Bobby's.

~+~  
His head hurts when he wakes up and Castiel is gone. Sam is in the shower; he can hear it running. He turns on his back and stares at the ceiling. He is sure Castiel stayed after. He remembers his body against his own. How familiar it felt. In a way like when he was a kid and Sam had nightmares and slept in Dean's bed. But it was never like this with Sam. He never wanted to reach out, grab, kiss, claim. He sighs in frustration.

“Coffee?” Sam asks. Dean doesn't look up.

“Yeah...you leave any warm water?” he asks.

“Yeah...pie?”

“Yes.” Dean sits up and looks at Sam. All the skin painted in scars.

“You okay?”

“No,” he answers and gets up from the bed.

“Dean...”

“I need a shower and coffee and painkillers.” He brushes by Sam and closes the bathroom door. He leans against it for a minute and just breathes. The air is damp and smells like cheap soap and clean water. He strips leaving his clothes on the wet floor. It doesn't matter,  they need to do laundry soon anyway.  
The water isn't exactly hot anymore, but that doesn't matter either. It's okay. It's nothing new. Their life is just like this. Luke warm water and meaningless pick ups in bars. Too much alcohol, not enough food. Too much blood and iron and gunpowder clinging to their skin. He doesn't think he can ever wash it away.               
He doesn't think he can wash away Castiel's smell, his mark on his skin. His fingers stroke over the hand-print, rough to the touch. He lets his hand slide over his arm and over his ribs where Castiel marked him forever. Inside where no one can see. He remembers Castiel's hitch of breath as he bit Castiel's lip. It makes him want and he clenches his hands at his sides, forcing the images back. Forcing himself not to run his fingers over his skin. This is madness. It was so stupid to kiss Castiel. Stupid to touch him, to feel his skin, his hot mouth and flesh against his own.  
Stupid, because he can't forget it, because it wasn't meaningless, because he wants to do it again. 

~8~  
There is nothing wrong with hunting things that have nothing to do with the fucking apocalypse. In fact it's good to do something that hasn't any connection to the fucking apocalypse, he thinks. Being on the road again, the simple joy of a simple, clean hunt. He isn't sure why Sam told him about this Wendigo thing just two states over, but he is glad Sam did. They both need something to kill. Strangely, it always helps Dean deal with other shit when he is able to kill something evil and unnatural. It's pretty fucked up and he knows it. He can't stand being around Bobby these days, because he feels guilty and he thinks Sam does as well.  
They don't talk much in the car. Maybe they are beyond talking now.  Dean has seen the future and it is a part of him now, even if he tries to stop it, there is no guarantee that the decisions he is making now aren't those that lead to the ending like he has seen. Like an ancient Greek drama. A self-fulfilling prophecy. Everything will come crashing down around them. He will lose Sam, Bobby, the world as he knows it. And Castiel. He will lose Castiel as he is now.   

~+~  
Her name is Cassandra (he picked her up in a bar as usual) and he mumbles 'Cas' into her skin as he licks her neck and shoulder, lets his tongue explore her body. Makes her shiver with desire and need. Calls her Cas as he fucks her and doesn't think about what it might mean.

~9~  
It's a kick to the balls to find out that all of Sam's good memories don't involve his family. He knew of course that Sam saw things differently, but he still thought that family was as important to Sam as it is to him. Apparently not.  
And it shouldn't matter that Sam didn't get his crust cut off from his PB&J sandwich, because Dean tried everything to make Sam happy. Everything he could. And Sam didn't think twice about running away and hiding somewhere. Fuck. Dean never told Sam what Dad did to him after Sam disappeared on his watch. That's what family means. He gave them everything. And this thought shouldn't be bitter, but it is. He can't help it.  

~+~  
Telling Cas what Joshua said is one of the worst things he had ever to do in his life. Cas believed in god. He believed that god would help them.

“Maybe...” he stops and Dean risks a side-glance at him. “Maybe Joshua was lying.” There is heavy silence in the room, interrupted only by the zipper of his bag.

“I don't think he was, Cas...I'm sorry,” Sam says and Dean is glad that it doesn't have to be him who says it. Castiel doesn't look at them, Dean doesn't even know if he wants Cas to. He seems so much smaller somehow, destroyed by all this. It's heartbreaking to witness. He wants to reach out, but he doesn't. Not here, not now. Because he's a coward.

“You son of a bitch....” Castiel says, his voice flat. “I believed in...” he stops. Stares at the ceiling some more and then turns around to face them. Face Dean maybe. “I don't need this anymore,” he says, pulling out the amulet and throwing it. Dean catches it. “It's worthless.”  
He hates to admit it even in his own head, but Cas is right. It is worthless for Cas, for him as well. It has lost its meaning, maybe a long time ago and he is just now discovering the truth.

“Cas. Wait!” Sam says, but Cas doesn't and Dean can't blame him. He stares at the amulet in his hand. For a few seconds he doesn't know what to do with it. Only knows that Cas is right. “We'll find another way,” Sam says.

“How?” he asks. That is the question here. How to stop all this?

“I don't know, but we'll find it. You and me.”  
He really wants to believe Sam, he wants to believe in Sam, but he can't. There is too much lost between them. Maybe there never was anything there like he thought there was. Today he saw Sam, the real Sam, and that Sam was so far away. That Sam is so far away from the brother he thought he was that he doesn't want to think about it. The amulet feels heavy in his hand, too heavy. Why should he keep it?  
There was never anything to interpret with him, not like with Sam. Sam always knew what Dean's intentions were. It's only fair (cruel as well, maybe) to do it here with Sam in the same room. There is a brief moment of hesitation, but then he just drops it into the trash can.  

~+~  
He finds Cas at the backside of the bar after he called ten times and left maybe 20 messages. Mostly consisted of “Call me back, you dick”.

“What do you want, Dean?” Castiel asks, Dean can hear the soft whisper of feathers like an irritated huff.

“Talk, I guess,” he shrugs. He isn't sure what he wants anymore. The world is ending and god isn't going to help them. They are on their own. And he doesn't know if he can do it, if they can do it. Maybe no one can.

“What's there to say? We lost,” Castiel answers, closing his eyes briefly. Dean thinks that in this moment, more than when he cursed at the angels or at god, he looks really human. Broken and lost. Like Dean is feeling. Like he felt for a long time now.   
The truth is that Castiel can understand him more than anyone else on this godforsaken planet. And wow, he thinks, it was never more true than now.

“Just because god left...” he begins and doesn't really know where he is going with that, but Castiel interrupts him anyway.

“Don't you see? We can't win! We can't stop Lucifer. He will bring the apocalypse and we will die. You, me, Sam. Everyone you know.”

He looks tired, Dean thinks. “Maybe, we will, maybe we won't. No one knows that...”

“Everything is unfolding like they planned it, Dean. We are just pieces on a chessboard.”

He doesn't think so.  “I don't think so,” he says and Castiel looks at him. No challenge, just a tired look of disbelief. And Dean wants to kiss him for all his humanity. For all this that makes him Castiel and not just one of the angels, so he does.  
Castiel doesn't fight him as he presses him into the wall of the bar. Doesn't fight him as he kisses him hard and demanding, doesn't fight him whatsoever. He slows down when Castiel kisses back, curling his fingers around Castiel's neck. Breathes in his scent. Clean, a bit like early spring rain. “I don't think so,” he repeats, kissing Castiel's jaw.   
He's seen the future; seen his future self and future Castiel and they weren't...they weren't this. Whatever this is. They weren't. So maybe they are already changing the future just by being here, just by doing this.         

~+~  
“I was thinking about you,” Dean says into his ear. His breath hot and scorching against Castiel's skin. He can feel the rough wall at his back, under his fingertips. Dean pressed into him, his body heat, his trembling, his desire. “Was thinking about you as I fucked that girl three days ago. Was nibbling her skin and calling her Cas.”

“This is madness,” he says, but he still spins them around so that Dean is the one pinned to the bar wall. His hand finds the mark on Dean's shoulder easily even under all of Dean's clothes.

“I've seen the future,” Dean says, lips just inches away from his own.

“I know.”

“Promise me that you won't do Yoga and have orgies with beautiful women...” Dean says, harshly, nibbling at his ear. It makes heat pool in his stomach. Hot and dangerous.

“Why would I do that?”

“The orgy or the promise?”

“The orgy,” he answers, pressing closer to Dean. It must hurt, he thinks. His fingers digging into Dean's flesh...

“You were human then, will be.” Dean bites down as he says it and Castiel gasps.  
He's losing faith, he thinks, they both are. They’re also losing control. It's slipping trough their fingers, he can feel it. And he doesn't care. He takes Dean's face in both his hands to make him stop, to make Dean look at him. “I won't. I promise I won't as long as you don't do it either.”

“I'm not big on the Yoga shit,” Dean answers with a smile.  

“Dean...” he says.

“Shut up. Fuck! I won't. Okay? I won't.”  
And that has to be enough, Castiel thinks. It's still madness, but he can't go back to Heaven, has no hope left except the faith he had in Dean from the beginning. Maybe they'll win, maybe they'll lose, maybe they'll die, maybe they won't. It doesn't matter in the long run. What matters is that he doesn't regret choosing Dean over Heaven, because it's that: He didn't choose humans over angels, he chose Dean over heaven. And he doesn't regret it.  

~end~


End file.
